Harry Potter and the Demons Within
by Chronos the Fallen Angel
Summary: HPX-Men- Harry is have a hard time getting over the death of Sirius, and with the news of his friends dating, he just can't take it anymore. but help is coming the oddest of places, from a race who wishes to see him dead. Author's Note Posted!
1. Prologue

Prologue:  
  
By: the Dark Aeon, Chronos the Fallen  
  
Author's Note: Right now the story is going through a partial revision. I'm having it beta read by the Purple Doom girl, or Audrey. If you're at Schnoogle, try to catch her story. I think that it will go places.  
  
Next thing. My story may look similar to one that Classic Cowboy wrote. There are a few things, but I've cleared it with him, so no worries.  
  
Anything that doesn't seem like mine probably isn't. The X-men and Dr. Strange are owned by Marvel, J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and the gang. I own my demons and plot. Please R&R.

()()()()()()

It had been a week, no more, no less, and still there was no change. Harry sat and stared forward thinking of the past, thinking of the "could've's" and the "should've's." He hadn't moved more than a three-foot radius since he had got back at the Dursley's. His aunt placed his food in his room on his desk, daring to come in. She had sense this obvious change in her nephew, and was actually worried about him. Dumbledore had recently sent him a letter, but it was only returned with a bold No written on it. Harry was in no mood for his teacher; his only chance at freedom was gone. His godfather, his friend, was gone forever and Harry would never get to see him again, he didn't even get a chance to say good-bye.

No one had come to visit him, yet. But Harry figured that had to be because they knew that the Dursleys weren't going to do anything to him. Hell, why wouldn't his relatives be afraid of Harry; he was the cause of so many people's deaths. Harry had no intention of ever leaving the house again; there was nothing left to live for—especially without him.

He wiped a tear from his eyes. It was a week without him, no more letters, no longer hearing his godfather's voice. A sigh escaped Harry's throat. He missed him so much. There was so much that he wanted to talk about and now… a tear fell from Harry's eyes, _what's the point? Everyone's going to die anyways_. The lone knife that his godfather had given him was sitting on the desk across from his bed. _Maybe it's better to end it now?_

For hours, Harry sat there and stared at the knife thinking of everything. He never heard a single thing; all he did was stare foreword at the knife. And there was only one thing stopping him: Hermione and how disappointed she would be with him. _But the pain's so much_. Harry just wanted it to end. His parents were gone; his godfather was gone. Everyone he loved was gone. _No, that's not true._ No it wasn't, Hermione and Ron were still alive, along with the rest of the Weasleys. _But how much longer til they're gone._ Harry didn't know if he could handle that kind of loss again. It hurt too much the first time, but to lose them…no one would ever love him. And Harry knew it.

Even his friends proved that point. His best friends in the whole wide world recently got together as a couple. They hadn't even waited that long from Hogwarts. Hermione was the one who told him too, thinking that Ron also told him. But no, his best mate was too much off a chicken to tell him. In her letter, Hermione said that Ron was romantic about the whole thing, how he planned it by himself. But Harry knew better; Ginny helped him with it. There was no why Ron could ever be romantic, especially the Ron he knew. The Ron Harry knew was an immature boy who could focus if someone made fun of him. The Ron he knew was a shallow kid who believed that money was one of the most important things in the world. The Ron he knew could never think that way of another person. But then again what did Harry know?

But Hermione said that he was so sweet, and how he invited her over already. Her parents said no, of course, but that was probably because she told them about Ron asking her out and Hermione saying yes. Funny, Harry wasn't invited over. Hell, he didn't even receive a letter from Ron yet. Harry sighed. Now with them going out he was just going to be a third wheel. All that left Harry to do was to curl up and be alone—again. He hadn't been this miserable since before Hogwarts. And it was all because of Ron and him asking out Hermione.

Harry finally decided that she was too good for Ron, and knew the relationship wasn't going to last. But why should she listen, or even believe him. He was just Harry, a boy who barely got his OWLS. A boy who almost got her killed. Maybe it was better for them to go out, that why they couldn't get hurt any more. But then again… _What _was _the point? _ Harry finally decided. Even his friends didn't care about him. Maybe it was better to end it soon. _Soon,_ Harry thought,_ that's a good word. Soon_. All Harry wanted to do now was think things over. He was never going to rush things again, even if it meant killing himself.

When Harry's reply came back, Albus Dumbledore wasn't expecting his letter, let alone a large "No" carved in the back of it. The paper was torn through, an obvious sign to Harry's torment. Albus knew Harry was upset, but he didn't think it went this far. Albus didn't have to guess; he knew that Harry was in a deep depression, one that stemmed from two places: the recent death of his godfather, and the news of his friends going out. Sirius Black was just another straw on the back of the camel that carried Harry Potter's problems. But it was the news of Hermione and Ron becoming a couple that broke the back of that camel. Harry had always had issues with love, and with this news, it could be thought as the fact that his friends didn't want him to be around. But there was more news then that.

()()()()()()

Mutants have begun to spring up across the world, and the wizarding world was no exception. Albus was only lucky enough to know a certain person who could help if need be. Most of the mutations were immediately fixed through corrective magic that bound certain abilities. But some were able to escape this horrible fate and joined up with Voldemort, who promised them a free world where they wouldn't be persecuted. This worried Albus but with facts from that certain friend, it was clearly worse then it seemed. He didn't understand it all, but luckily his friend was arriving soon, and was bringing someone who could explain it.

"Professor Dumbledore," Dobby appeared in his office. "A man by the name of Scott Summers is here." The old professor raised an eyebrow over his crescent glasses. "He has a friend with him by the name of Professor Xavier." The bright blue eyes sparked up at the sound of Xavier's name. "They said that-"

"Excellent, Dobby," Albus stood up, "please, go and tell them that I will meet them in the Great Hall." Dobby turned to leave. "And oh, Dobby, please help Professor Xavier is he needs it." Dobby nodded but was confused. Albus understood at once, the house elf only saw this Logan, not his friend. "I will be down in a few moments." Dobby nodded again and disappeared with a pop. Albus smiled; he would finally get some information on this mutant issue, and maybe some help it with as well.

()()()()()()

Hermione Granger paced her room now still worried about the note she received from one of her best friends. Or rather the lack of note she received. When Hedwig came back with Harry's letter, there was a large "No" carved into the back of it, and this only added to her beliefs. Harry was going through depression—and severe one at that—from what she knew about her friend.

And it didn't help now that Ronald Weasley asked her out or that he didn't tell Harry. He had been her other best friend for five years and it finally happened. She knew that he was going to ask her and that it was going to be soon, but she hoped that it wasn't going to be this soon. Especially not the way that Ron asked. But she would give him an ear full about that later, first things first. Harry's mental and physical health mattered more than her relation with Ron at the moment.

"Mum!" she yelled down stairs. There was no reply in from downstairs. At first Hermione thought that her mom didn't hear her, so she screamed again. Again there was no reply. "Mum!" Hermione tried a finally time for breaking out of her room. Hermione tore down the stairs only to stop at the bottom of it.

Her mother and father were talking to a strange man. He wore sunglasses during cloudy day, and thick black ones at that. They seemed to curve around his face, preventing all light to enter his eyes. The man wore a long black coat, with belt straps over the chest of it, each locked in place. His hair flowed down onto his shoulders and down his back. In his hand seemed to be cane of some sort, it was odd, alternating in black and red colors. "Your daughter has decided to join us," he said looking up at Hermione. The man's was a deep masculine voice, but it was almost melodic and ethereal like. He also bore an accent, as if he was from America or something.

"Oh, Hermione," her dad said, turning around. "I told you this morning that we were expecting guest." Mr. Granger turned to the man. "I'm terribly sorry about that. She forgets easily." He turned back to his daughter, "Dear, this is your cousin from America, Roland um…"

Hermione hadn't recognized her cousin from America. He had gotten in touch with her parents about a month ago and he asked if he could visit. The last time that she saw him was over nine years, when Hermione was six, again, before the accident that cost Roland his parents. It was at a family reunion in Florida around Christmas, and some of her other cousins were picking on her. Roland was the one who stepped up and protected his little cousin. He was only twelve but enjoyed being with her. When they returned home for Christmas, Hermione found a pile of gifts just for her. They were from him. It was he who got her hooked on books. For about a month, he made calls to her and talked and listened to everything. But his parents died soon afterwards, and she never even heard from him again—until today.

"Demoas," he finished the sentence, "it's quite alright, girls as pretty as your daughter must have a lot on their minds, what with boys hounding after them." Hermione blushed slightly. She remembered now with her mother mentioning it. But Hermione was too worried about something. "But I take it that wasn't what you were thinking about." Roland raised an eyebrow over his sunglasses. "A friend maybe, one who is in serious trouble." She blushed madly this time. He had guessed right. But how did her cousin know. "We'll talk later about that later. For now, how about a hug?" he smiled.

Hermione jumped down the stairs and hugged her cousin. "I missed seeing you," she said, her head on his chest. She didn't release the effect that he had on her until this moment.

"And I you, my friend, and I you," he replied, soft and tender. "It would have helped to hear your voice, but what can you do?" Roland released Hermione and looked forward at her parents. "Come, there is much to talk about." He reached down, staring forward, and tried to find bags.

"Just leave them, dear," Mrs. Granger said, "We can take them up later." Roland nodded. "We can talk in the living room." Everyone moved save Roland. Hermione looked up at her cousin.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her troubles forgotten for the moment.

"Well, a blind man can't lead himself everywhere can he?" Roland chucked. Hermione caught the meaning behind his words. That was the meaning of the sunglasses. She immediately walked over helped him into the living room. But as much as she wanted to be with her cousin and listen to what has happened in his life, she wanted to help Harry. "Well, I guess that talk can't wait, huh Hermione?" She blushed again. _How did he know what I was thinking about?_ "We can discuss it in the living room, if that isn't too much trouble?"

Mr. Granger nodded his head, but quickly added a no for Roland's sake. "That shouldn't be a problem." He and his wife took seats on the couch.

"Good then," Roland smiled. Hermione helped him find a seat in one of the empty lazy-boys and then took a seat in the other one. "First things first: what school do you go to?" Hermione looked shocked and was thankful that Roland was blind. What should she tell him? After all he was her cousin but… Hermione looked over to her parents for support. Her mom mouthed an 'I don't know.' "I'm asking because if it is magically based I can probably help more." Her mouth dropped. "See, magically based problems emit a stasis field that I can detect so…" Roland shrugged. _How does he know about magic?_ She thought.

"But from your expression it isn't, is it?" Roland continued. "No it involves a friend, I can tell that much. You're pretty upset about it, so that must mean that he is too. Depressed maybe, suicidal thoughts are quite the possibility." He smirked. "Am I closer?" Hermione nodded, she couldn't say anything. Roland had nailed it on his first try. "My best guess is that this friend is your best friend, but not your boyfriend and yet you love him still." Hermione blushed even redder. "Good, I'm much closer now. Or have I hit it yet?" Hermione nodded. "Good then come tell me, who is this boy that you care so much about."

"He's Harry Potter," Hermione spoke meekly. "And you're right about everything—except about the love part."

"Why, can you not love a friend as though he is a brother?" Roland replied quickly, but the concern was on his face. Hermione nodded a response. "Still, that's not…" he trailed off and stopped, sitting back in his chair thinking. "I've never been wrong before," Roland muttered, Hermione barely caught what he said.

"How did you know about magic," Mrs. Granger asked. "Are you a-"

"A wizard of course," Roland pulled out his wand from his coat. It was black metal, reflecting most light. "I'm in my sixth year now, transferred over to Hogwarts, so…" Roland trailed off again. He seemed to enjoy ending things without fully ending them. "How about a different topic?" Roland slid the wand back into his coat, and then rubbed the back of his neck. "There will probably be time for that later. For now, tell me of what has happened here in the past nine years. From your lack of shock and who her friend is, I take it Hermione is a wizard, correct?" Mr. Granger smiled. "Please, what was it like to get her letter?"

Roland listened carefully to Mr. Granger talk, and seemed really interested in it. For what seemed like hours, Roland said nothing unless to ask another question. It was always her mom, or her dad, or herself that talked. But Hermione was anxious; she was worried about Harry. The only time that Roland took his attention off of the Grangers was when he placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "He is fine, at least for now, Hermione." Roland was staring at her, as if he knew exactly what she felt. "But if it bothers you that much, I know someone who may be able to help." When Roland looked up a grave smile was on his face, but Hermione knew that everything would be all right, at least for the moment.

()()()()()()

Outside Number 4, Privet Drive, there stood a man in a brown trench coat. For weeks now he had been watching this house, learning the movements of the inhabitants. The boy who he was asked to watch rarely moved from his room, unless to go to the bathroom and his food was brought up to him. The boy was in a deep depression, which meant a perfect opportunity to attack, but his master said no and that they must wait until he shows up—then and only then. So the man did nothing. But that didn't stop him from smiling at the fact that this war would soon be over and both threats would be gone forever. The man's pointing teeth were obvious to all who passed by as he smiled.


	2. Darkness Falls and the Hero arrives

Chapter 1: Darkness Falls and the Hero Arrives  
  
By: Chronos the Fallen Angel  
  
Author's Note: So what did you think? I've been trying to get this story posted on Fanfiction.Portkey, but it is taking forever. Hopefully I will get this story up so people can enjoy it both there and here.  
  
This story contains characters from the Harry Potter universe, Marvel universe, DC universe as well as some of my own. Any character that isn't of those previously listed groups is probably mine.

()()()()()()  
  
Hermione woke up late on Sunday. Her cousin had been in town only two days and yet life seemed calmer, almost. He had this aura about, something that made everything, well nice. Stretching, she looked over at her desk. Her quill and parchment were out, yesterday, she had written to Ron, who had already written her back. It seemed that he really wanted her to come over the Burrow. As much as she wanted to, Hermione knew better then to trust Ron about something such as being alone in the house with him. As good of a friend he was, he was now her boyfriend and things were different. Some of them, she wasn't ready for.  
  
Sighing, Hermione decided to get out of her bed. As much as she didn't want to leave, she knew that she would need to get ready for the day. It was Sunday and they always went to Church. Slowly, Hermione got of her bed and stretched again. Her body was sore for some odd reason. I've must have slept funny, she decided. Hermione picked out her cloths for the morning, placed her robe on and walked out to the bathroom.  
  
After a nice long shower, Hermione got dressed in a nice long skirt, and a white blouse. She sat in front of her vanity mirror for about five minutes trying to comb her hair. After drying, it simply refused to straighten out. Sighing frustration, she gave up and walked down stairs. Hermione saw her father sitting at the table with her mother. "Where's Roland?" she asked. Taking a look at the clock, she knew that she had enough time for a quick breakfast.  
  
"Outside, mediating," her father replied. "But you'd better get some breakfast before we go."  
  
"Isn't Roland going?" she asked. Mr. Granger shook his head. "Why not?" he tried a page and continued reading.  
  
"We discussed this last night, dear," Mrs. Granger said. "Weren't you listening?" in truth Hermione wasn't, she was too worried about Harry to do much else, even with her cousin playing cards with her. Roland was talking about something, which was all she could remember. "If you're so curious go out and ask him then." Her mother smirked and turned back to the pancakes she was making.  
  
Hermione scoffed. Why couldn't her parents tell her straight out. It would have made things easy. She kissed her father on the forehead before she went to the back, and saw an unusually sight. There stood Roland in only a pair of black pants. He was well built each breathe of his flex a set of muscles. He was in almost a crouch, but his legs were spread out apart. He was rocking very slowly back and forth on it, using all of his energy in the movement. "Tai Chi," Hermione said as she stepped outside.  
  
Roland looked up at her and smiled, "yeah, I learned it a long time ago. Happen to find it relaxing." He shrugged his shoulders, something that Hermione saw him doing often. But before she could get a word out, Roland 'saw' the look on her face. "Why are you... upset?" He spoke slow, always thinking of his words.  
  
"Why aren't you going to church?" Hermione snapped. If she had to go, so did Roland. It wasn't fair. But Roland didn't say anything, he just laughed. "What's so funny?"  
  
"Hermione, do you really expect an atheist to go to church of a being he doesn't believe in," Roland's question stunned Hermione. She didn't think that he was an atheist. "I've stopped going to church for religious reasons for the past four years." He shrugged again. Hermione hated that; his shrug never gave a full answer. "And I have no intention of going back for those reasons." Roland limped past Hermione, and picked up a black towel. He wiped his face with it, and limped inside. Hermione wondered about that limp, he never gave a straight answer. It could have been from the car crash, but Hermione doubted that. No, it was something worse, and that was the reason as to the limp and Roland's new take on religion. And the scars on his back probably had something to do with that too. Odd at how they were chaotically placed all over his back. It reminded her of something.  
  
When she had first seen Roland, he was the most religious boy that she had ever met. He wore a necklace with a simple cross on it, and had the entire bible memorized. But now, he refused to even go to church. Something had clearly happened. And for the first time since she had a seen her cousin, she noticed it. Or rather remembered it. There was a scar on the backs of both hands, circular in their forms, and she could have sworn that he had then on his palms too. Odd, she thought. But she also knew that there was nothing that would change her cousin from his ways. Even that was obvious when she first met him.  
  
"Hermione, come in for breakfast," her mother called, "you need to eat before we go to church." She sighed, well I better go in or else mum would kill me. Hermione scoffed in, hoping that she would be able to relax today, but her mind kept slipping back to Harry. She was worried about him. Hermione knew how he held things in, and how horrible his life was. Oh Harry, I just wish that I could help you. She walked straight to the table, not even thinking about anything else. Even her boyfriend didn't matter, save the need to help her best friend.  
  
Hermione didn't notice Roland standing the corners, watching her think about her friend. If only she knew what power lied in the body of her cousin, then she would ask for his help. If only he didn't have to hide his powers, then he would help without being asked. But that didn't mean he couldn't help. Roland walked backed up the stairs, and began to hatch a brilliant plan to help everyone find their paths.

()()()()()()  
  
Harry was leaning against the back wall, just sitting and staring forward. He will come, he decided a long time ago. It was only a matter of time. He always knew when Harry needed help and He will come. It was only a matter of time. And Harry could wait; waiting was something that he was able to do very will. Soon, Harry thought, soon it will all be over. One way or another. His knife reflected the light as Harry spun it in his hand. Soon...

()()()()()()  
  
It was around twelve when Hermione and her parents got back from church. Apparently, they decided to go out and do some shopping and wanted to bring Hermione along for the ride. Her parents agreed that she could go and visit Ron for today and today only. So that meant some shopping. Hermione was so excited, she almost forgot about Harry. Almost. He was still there just in the back of her mind. Just not up at the front. That nagging feeling was still there.  
  
Hermione was nearly bouncing in her seat; she was going to see one of her best friends, now boyfriend. This day couldn't get any better. But it could, she could know that Harry was safe and that he wasn't going to hurt himself. Damn you Harry, Hermione thought, why do you always have to ruin my fun?  
  
They got home rather quickly, and Hermione rushed up stairs with her bags. She wanted to get changed and ready for when she flooed over to Ron's. Her parents recently got hooked up the Floo network, and she couldn't wait to see Ron again. But something stopped Hermione. The house had no lights on, save one in the kitchen. She quickly walked over there to see what was going on. The light was coming from the stove, and Roland was there too.  
  
She saw her cousin standing in the middle of the kitchen talking on a cellphone. "Look, professor, I know," Roland sighed and took a seat on the counter. He was swinging his legs back and forth. "I've been monitor all of them, and I feel that something needs to be done. One of them has had a traumatic life as it is and another is in denial completely and the third is..." Roland looked up at where Hermione was standing. "Look, I'll call you back." Roland pressed a button on the phone then stared directly at Hermione. Then she noticed it, he wasn't wearing his sunglasses. Her cousin didn't have eyes. The hollowness just stared back at her. Hermione was horror struck, but a calm voice seemed to tell her to go room and continue as if nothing happened. The voice seemed reasonable so Hermione listened. As she left through, she heard Roland say. "Bless you Professor. Always listening in..." his voice disappeared as he opened the door and went outside.  
  
Hermione shook her head and rushed up to her room. Throwing the bags down onto her bed, she quickly got changed into her new outfit. Hermione spun in her mirror. She wore almost basic blue jeans but they were tighter then usually, showing off her curves. Her blouse was loose around the waist, but had a semi-low cut. She knew Ron would love it. Hermione ran down stairs, and Roland was just coming inside. "Aunt Mary, Uncle Joe, I'm going out now," was all he said as he walked toward the door. Her parents tried to get more, but Roland just kept on walking. The door was slammed shut, and the whole house shook.  
  
"What was that about?" Hermione asked; she walked into the kitchen where her parents were.  
  
"He said he was being picked up by a friend," her father said, reading the note, "'I've got some work that needs to be done. A friend is picking me up, so don't worry. Hopefully, I'll be back before dinner with some news. Love, Roland Demoas.' It's all there." He handed Hermione the note.  
  
She read it once before looking up at her parents. "So can I go now," Hermione asked with hope in her eyes. Her father looked at her mother. She just nodded, but there was a worried look on her face.  
  
"You behave, and make sure you don't do something you're going to regret later," Mrs. Granger replied. Hermione squealed with delight and then blushed slightly. As much as she wanted to be with Ron, she didn't want to be with Ron. At least not yet. Ron was her friend and Hermione didn't want to ruin that friendship by doing something stupid. But that didn't mean she couldn't have fun. Hermione rushed over to the fireplace, and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. She stepped into the fireplace, and she threw down the Floo powder. Hermione said the Burrow loudly, and as she was disappearing, she thought, I hope Harry is alright.

()()()()()()  
  
Harry stared forward, and had refused to move for the past two hours. He was waiting, just waiting for him to come. Soon. He thought. The door bell rang down stairs, and Harry eyes lit up. He's here, he finally back. He stood up quickly, and became dizzy. Sitting down for the past two hours and not moving would do that to a person. "Who the hell are you?" Uncle Vernon's voice rang down stairs. It was definitely him. "I'm talking to you. You come-" Uncle Vernon was silent. But why? Harry thought. He couldn't do that, could he?  
  
Footsteps slowly walked up the stairs, but there was a slight pause in between each foot, almost a limp. Harry quickly opened his door, and smiled hoping to see him. But it wasn't his godfather, it was someone else. He was placing his sunglasses back on when Harry saw him. The man wore a long black coat, with what appeared to be belt straps on his chest. He wore black gloves and black sunglasses. This single color motif was only added by his pitch-black hair. Harry knew that his hair was black, but it at least reflected some light. This man's seemed to absorb all light. "You're not him," Harry said simply, and walked back into his room. He tried to close the door, but the man held out an arm and stopped it. "So leave me alone."  
  
"I can't do that," the man spoke with a melodic and ethereal-like voice. It was deep, and held a calm and peacefully aura to it. "You're well being means a lot to many people."  
  
"And who are you to say that," Harry asked. He took a seat on his bed, and crossed his arms.  
  
"Hermione's cousin, if you wish to know," Harry's eyes lit up when the man mentioned Hermione. "But I didn't come here to talk about me." He summoned a chair out of thin chair, a black one at that, and took a seat. "I've come to listen, and give advice, if needed."  
  
"Who are you," Harry asked. Why would any one care about him enough to send a stranger to help?  
  
"Because they care, Harry, they all do," the man said, "especially Hermione." Harry's eyes lit up again. "As for whom I am, I am Roland Demoas." A smile was on his face.  
  
"You probably know who I am, so we'll skip introductions on my behalf." He frowned and scooted to the back of his bed, and leaned against the wall.  
  
"What's bothering you?" Roland asked, he leaned forward and stared at Harry.  
  
"If you're so smart, why don't you tell me," Harry snapped.  
  
"Fine then," Roland replied without hesitation. "You're depression. As to why there are many reasons, but mainly two: the death of your godfather and the fact that your friends are going out." Harry was shocked, this man had just named two reason that had been bugging Harry, but he didn't think that he was depressed. Upset maybe, but not depressed. "Both reasonable reason too. You weren't expecting either, and one would have been manageable, but with both, depression has sunk in."  
  
"You're wrong," Harry replied, refusing to accept the fact that he was depressed.  
  
"Maybe, maybe not," Roland smirked, "only you can tell me otherwise." now, he clapped his hand, "how do you feel?" he was almost smiling, as if he was laughing at Harry's condition.  
  
Harry sighed. This man wasn't going to give up. Why couldn't he just be left alone? Everyone who loved him always left him or died. Maybe he was useless. "See it's that kind of thinking that causes depression, Harry," Roland said. "You can tell me, I'm here for you, and I'm not leaving until I believe that we have some progress." Roland sat back in his chair.  
  
This man wasn't going to leave him alone. Why could Roland see that Harry didn't want help, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted Sirius to come and save him. He wanted to be love. "You seriously have some self-love problems, boy," Roland smirked.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry wanted to turn away from this man and just ignore him until he goes away. Apparently, it wasn't going to work. This man refused to leave Harry alone.  
  
"I mean that you serious think that no one loves you," Roland replied. "If no one loved you, then you wouldn't have made friends. If no one loved you then people wouldn't care to ask question about your well-being. If no one loved you, then you wouldn't be asked to go over the Burrow." Harry was about to reply, but Roland continued. "Come on Harry, for once think about your life and take a good look at it. If Sirius didn't love you, he wouldn't have come after you in the Ministry. If your friends didn't love you, they wouldn't have followed you to the Ministry. Do you really believe those ideas, or rather lack of ideas, of self-worth and love? That's Voldemort, Harry; he's just making you weaker so when he comes, he can kill you."  
  
"I-I," Harry couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say. But everything that Roland said made sense. But Harry didn't want to accept it. No, he couldn't accept. But what if Roland was right?  
  
Roland stood up and smiled. "I think I've gotten the progress that I wanted. I will come back tomorrow, same time. And tomorrow, I will expect you to talk." He walked out without another.  
  
Am I depressed? Harry asked himself. In all his life, he had never even thought that he would become depressed. It sort of snuck up on him, and Harry wasn't even thinking that he was. He looked over at his knife that he left on his bed-side table. For a while there he was whiling to kill himself. But now... I need time to think, he decided and closed his eyes thinking of what Roland said and why he was depressed.  
  
He sighed again. Maybe I can trust this man. After all, he seemed willing to help him. But Harry was still unsure. His best guess was to write to the Order, and see what they think. Things were looking up since summer had started, and Harry knew things couldn't get much worse.  
  
Roland stood outside of Privet Drive, Number 4 and sighed. The boy was wound up tightly, his feelings held deep within his mind when there weren't on top ready to explode. This was going to be hard, but he knew that Harry needed help, and with some of the new information that Roland received just from his meeting, he knew that Harry was going to need all the help he could get with his feelings alone. It took a lot of self control not to mention that he loved Hermione or that she loved him. Both didn't even knew about the feelings yet, rather they were deep, but strong feelings. It was only a matter of time. And Roland had all the time in the world, he hoped.  
  
Night had begun to fall, and the street lights were turned on. None of the light reached Roland, but that didn't bother him. He limped down to the edge of the sidewalk and looked around. He reached out for but a moment, extending his reach as far as possible, trying to sense anything from anyone. He sighed again, sometimes, he wished that none of his life had ever happened, but knew that it was for the better in the end. Too many people depended on what Roland did and will do. He was too important, an old friend used to say, and it was true. His job was important; every action was weighted and carefully thought out. But then carefully thought out meant only millisecond for his computer brain. Roland sighed again, just one of those days.  
  
His search of the neighborhood turned up negative, meaning no was watching him. He focused for but a moment, and dissolved into the shadows that he created. Little did he know that someone was watching him: Harry? He had taken a glance out of his window to watch this stranger disappear, and saw him do just that, literally. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he watched Roland dissolve into the ground. And the first word that came to mind was mutant. He associated with a mutant. After a few minutes of thought, Harry decided that it wasn't that bad. From all the noise that he heard from Uncle Vernon, Harry would have thought that it was a bad thing. But he learned that he couldn't trust people on first glance anymore. So he had to write that letter. Maybe tomorrow won't be that bad after all.

()()()()()()  
  
When Hermione came home after visiting Ron, she was exhausted. Not that we did much, she thought, it was just a long day. She had Ron went out to dinner, and talked to whole night through. Hermione forget that she had to yell had him for not telling Harry. He smiled so sweetly, and said the nicest things. Hermione had never heard things like what he said about her before. She just melted in his arms. It was around ten o'clock when she got home, so Hermione was surprised to see that her parents were still up. And Roland had returned, too. "Look, just think about it," He was saying, "I don't need an answer yet, but soon." He stood up and walked out of the room and up the stairs without a hello to Hermione.  
  
Odd, she thought. Roland was usually one of the most thoughtful guys. The past two days, even if he caught a glance of her, he would go out of his way to say hello. But something was wrong; it was as if he finally had his own problems to worry about. Good, he'll stop worry about my mine then. For some odd reason, Roland could always tell what she was feeling and he was blind so he couldn't see her expressions. And she didn't like that fact; it was as if he was reading her mind.  
  
"Mum, Dad," she said, walking into the kitchen, "I'm home." Hermione was smiling when she walked into the kitchen. She had so much to talk about. And Harry wasn't even part of her conscious thoughts at the moment. Things couldn't have been... worse from the expressions on her parents face. "Mum, Dad, what's wrong?"  
  
"Roland was had something he needed to get off of his chest," her mum wiped a tear rolling down. "You're father and I are all right with it, but it is a difficult burden to bear."  
  
"What is it?" Hermione asked, she was now worried. What could've Roland said that affect her parents this way?  
  
"He'll tell you when's he ready, dear," her father said, "but just have an open mind about it, okay?" Hermione nodded. "Good, why don't you head up to bed, you can tell about your day tomorrow?" Hermione nodded again, and head toward the stairs.  
  
It seemed that everything was alright now, but still something felt wrong, as if they weren't going to tell her. I guess I have to ask Roland. She wasn't going to look forward to that. If he didn't want to talk about something, Hermione learned quickly not to bother asking. And he had a worse temper then she did. It was early morning on Saturday and she was the recipient of it. Roland was mediating, and Hermione wanted to talk some more, learn about what happened. He told her no, and to leave him alone. But Hermione didn't take no for an answer. She continued to pester him until he snapped. It was as Roland was a completely different person. He scared her, he actually scared her. The only person who was worse then Roland at the moment was Voldemort, but it wasn't by much.  
  
Roland came around later and apologized for actions, but it still hurt that he yelled at. After a talk with her mother, Hermione realized what she did wrong. Roland was very protective of his past, and he didn't like to give it out so easily. And since he recently lost a dear friend, so her mother said, Roland was on edge. Hermione stopped in front of her door, and looked over at Roland's room.  
  
The door was closed and soft music could be heard of a person strained to hear that it was being played. It was Moonlight sonata by Beethoven. Hermione opened the door slightly, and looked in there was a large grand piano where the bed once was. Roland was seated at the piano and rocking back and forth as he played. Hermione opened the door fully so she could listen better. She never even knew that he could play the piano so well. "You're here, so you might as well come in and listen," Roland said, surprising her.  
  
"How did you-" Hermione started to ask, but stopped. Roland always seemed to know when people entered the room, or who. "I didn't know you could play, and so well at that."  
  
He chuckled. "I had to learn, part of my physical therapy." Roland paused in the song and turned around. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses, but the room was dark enough that she couldn't see anything. "But you didn't come here to talk about my piano play skills. What's on your mind?"  
  
I'm in Gryffindor; I'm supposed to be courageous. But Hermione couldn't muster the courage. "Where did you go?" she asked.  
  
"I went to see Harry," he said simply as if it was no big deal. Hermione's eyes lit up. "You know, you have the exact same effect on him too." Roland chuckled again.  
  
"How was he, is he okay? You talked to him, what did say?" Hermione was full of questions, she had been so worried about Harry and Roland went to go see him.  
  
"Slow down," Roland spoke calmly. "He's alright. Was a bit depressed when I met him, but now..." he shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said, his eyes sparked up like yours did when I mentioned you were worried about him. Come sit down." He waved a hand in front of him and a black chair appeared in front of him. Hermione took a seat.  
  
"Do you want me to turn on a light?" she asked. Roland shook his head. "So what do you think of him?"  
  
"The truth is I'm worried about him. For the past fifteen years, no one has ever loved him." Roland sat up and leaned back against the piano.  
  
"But what about the Weasleys? They love him." Hermione was shocked. "Ron loves Harry, I love Harry." Hermione blushed slightly and looked down. Roland smirked at her comment, and she quickly added. "Like a brother." That didn't help the blush that Hermione got.  
  
"What ever you say Hermione," Roland replied. "Maybe the Weasleys do love him, but I'm talking about love in two specific ways: the love that a child can only receive from his parents, and the unconditional love from a true girlfriend. Now, granted someone else can love a child as if they are their own, but the love a parent, true parent is a wonderful thing. I can't image how Harry has felt the past fifteen years without his real parents. And from what I can guess, that he hasn't really found a girlfriend who loves him for him. I take it most people fall in love the Hero, the Boy-who-Lived, the Image of Harry, not him." Roland chuckled again. "But anyways, he has self-esteem issues along with love issues."  
  
"Are you a psychiatrist?" Hermione asked with a smile.  
  
"Almost, two weeks of my correspondence course and I'm done." He laughed. "The joke back at my old school was how they were handing a psych degree to a crazy man." Hermione laughed too, but she didn't understand why Roland was considered crazy. He sighed. "I needed to get away from there for a while, so that is why I'm here."  
  
"Why?" What was her cousin talking about? Could this be what her parents were talking about?  
  
"Two weeks ago," Roland sighed again, "I was visiting my girlfriend in Gotham City. Some how, word got out that she was a mutant." Hermione was shocked, how could Roland be dating a mutant? He gave her a weird look, but continued anyway. "Anyways, a mob came to her home and demanded that she come out. I was exhausted," and Hermione was about to ask why, but Roland beat her to the punch, "don't ask why, alright. So there wasn't much we could do. In the end, she went out, sacrificing herself to make sure that I stayed alive." A lone tear slid down Roland's eyes. "She died so I could live." He closed his eyes and stopped talking. Hermione took that as a sign to leave, but it left so many questions. She sighed, knowing that Roland would only tell her when he was ready. Silently, she left for her room, still worried about Harry, but happy that someone is finally helping him.

()()()()()()  
  
It was late when Hedwig finally came back with a letter, almost ten o'clock. Harry smiled. It was the first time in a week that he had actually written a letter to anyone. Maybe things will be better. Hedwig held out her leg for him to take the letter. Harry petted his owl absentmindedly as he read the letter.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I'm glad to hear from you. I knew that this must be tough for you. It is for me at least, and I knew him for the longest time. It seems that you have finally Roland Demoas. He's the newest member of our program. From what Albus says, he rather smart and ingenious. I just hope that he'll be able to help whatever problems you have. Just remember Harry; you can talk to any of us if you want to.  
Now to answer your question, you're probably right in assuming what he is. That is part of the reason why Albus wanted him the group. Have an open mind about the situation. I know most people here didn't think that it was the greatest of ideas, but Moody and Tonks agreed with me and him joining. Just ask him about what he can do, not his past. That was the one thing that Albus warned us on. Roland is very protective of it for some odd reason, and won't give it out for anyone.  
Take care Harry, and please for our sake, don't do anything stupid.  
  
Your Friend, Remus  
  
Harry smiled. If Dumbledore trusted his man, and more importantly, Lupin trusted his man, Harry knew that he could trust Roland. The man had this aura around him, and it was as if Harry had known Roland all his life. From the brief time that he had spent with him, he knew that Roland could be a friend.  
  
He took a seat on his bed, thinking of what Roland had said. He was right, Harry finally decided on. But that didn't mean he was happy. The fact that his best friends were going out still upset him, and it was even worse was the fact that they didn't tell him. What hurt him more than anything was that he was left out of the information. He was their friend, and they could tell him anything. But the fact that Ron didn't tell made him second- guess their friendship. Harry sighed; he didn't want to ruin his friendship over the fact that two of his friends were dating.  
  
And he didn't want to be third wheel. Harry slammed his fists onto the bed. There were still some problems, but with what Roland said, he was able to get past the main one. And one day, he would be able to properly grieve for Sirius. Just not yet.

()()()()()()  
  
Roland had changed his room back to what it was before, and was now laying on his bed. His body was exhausted beyond its usual amount. And it wasn't because he used more energy, but rather the fact that his mind was on overdrive. Too much was happening and too slowly. He needed for Harry's belated powers to arise, and then Hermione's and he could leave and get back to work. It wasn't that he enjoyed his job, far from it, but rather he was the best there was in his area and he didn't trust his replacement.  
  
"Well, Al'Takas," a being of pure white walked through the wall and stood over Roland's bed. "I see that you're still working hard."  
  
"Why did you have to give me that name, huh?" Roland asked. "I'm not one of them."  
  
"No, but you are half of one, hence the name," the man replied. He was transparent, and a white mist floated around his feet. He wore a pure white suit with a white shirt and white tie. Even the man's hair was white. "I have news for you."  
  
"Don't you always?" Roland said, sitting up. "What is it? I will need some sleep tonight. I have some work for Tony to get done, then I'm seeing the boy again."  
  
"Good, you've already met him," The man replied. "He bears a special lineage, much like she does. And as you know-"  
  
"It is always half as long as there is one child," Roland interrupted. "How much is it like mine?  
  
"Beyond that is special, nothing," the man continued. "Theirs have been in the family for generations, but since most had many children, the effects hadn't happen. And unlike you, their angel hasn't fallen."  
  
"Great," Roland lied back down. "Should I be worried?" the man shook his head. "Anything else, how about my father?"  
  
"He has yet to make an open move, but..." the man trailed off, "I don't trust the silence amide the worlds. Something is going on. Keep an eye on both of them." He turned to leave, but stopped. "Have they admitted it yet?"  
  
"No," Roland replied, "it's much worse then we'd thought. She is dating another person, and he was depressed."  
  
"Was?"  
  
"I hopefully got him past the hardest part. Once a person admits that their depressed, the road can be easier." Roland shrugged his shoulders. "Hopefully I'll get him to grieve for his godfather."  
  
"Grief is a good thing, my brother," the man left without another word. Roland knew what he meant, he just refused to accept it.  
  
Roland sat up for a moment, and rubbed his eyes. He hated his job for he had to work by himself. As terrible as his condition was, he hated the fact when a person was hurt because of him. No one could be near him in fear of what he did would get back and hurt them. Even Hermione couldn't understand what he had been through, or is going through. "Some things are best left alone," he said out loud. He got lucky with his girlfriend and his best friend. But now one was over thousand miles away and the other was dead. "Some people are better off alone."  
  
Hermione had gotten up during the middle of the night to use the bathroom. She had heard voices coming from Roland's room. Moving silently, she walked over to his room and opened the door. There, in Roland's room, was what she thought was a ghost. He had this mist around him, and looking at the bed. Roland was sitting up and talking to the man. She heard partial conversations, and didn't understand half of it. What did that ghost mean by Al'Takas and whom were they talking about? Her cousin seemed to have more mystery wrapped around him then Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world. Hermione sighed and went back to her bed, thinking about what she had just heard.


	3. Time is of the essence

Hermione stretched when sleep had finally ended. The sun was pouring in her room despite the shades being down. It never allowed her to sleep in late. She leaned over and looked at the clock on her bed stand. It read nine o'clock. She moaned. It was too early. As much as Hermione enjoyed getting up for school, during the summer, she liked to sleep as late as possible. She only prayed that Harry or Ron never found out about that, they would never let her live it down.

She stood up slowly, and was a bit dazed; she always was from sleeping. Hermione grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her. When she walked out of her room, she heard the shower going. Her parents were already off to work, each at separate offices. So Roland must be using it now. Deciding to get breakfast, Hermione casually walked down stairs and into the kitchen. On the table was a note from her parents. It was their standard and she swore that they had multiple copies somewhere. The note told her to behave, take care of the house, and stay in the house. But this time there were two new lines. _Don't allow Ron into this house today,_ and _try to talk to Roland_.

Hermione understood the first one; it was just an extra precaution to make sure she didn't do something stupid. She didn't intend to have Ron over, unless he really begged, but even then, she didn't know. But with Roland going out, she was going to be alone, and that only caused her to worry even more. Hermione knew from his late night conversation that he was going to see a man named Tony, then Harry. She just hoped that Harry was going to be all right. Roland seemed almost sure that he was doing better after being set straight. _But that's my job_, she thought. After all she was the one who helped Harry kept his head on during tight situations. And now someone else had taken that away from her.

Hermione sat down with a pout look on her face. She was the one who helped Harry, not her cousin. But as much as she wanted it, she knew that their relationship was going to be different. Harry was now a third wheel, and Hermione hated herself for that. But she wanted to be with Ron. "I see we have a struggling heart," Roland said, coming down the stairs. Hermione turned her head and saw her cousin. He was in a suit, actually full-blown suit. It was black with a shirt; white one at that, and a blood red tie. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses, and was rubbing some cream on his face. His hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail. He looked so different, less scary almost; handsome even.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she turned around in the seat and looked at him.

"I'm going out to a business meeting, then the closest mall, and then to Harry's," he replied.

"I didn't ask 'where are you going?'." She stared at her cousin.

"Oh, this," Roland said, pulling his hands away and showing them to Hermione, "it's a cream to hide scars." He finished rubbing it on his cheek and then went into the kitchen. Hermione got up and followed him. "I got into a fight a while back and got a few scars on my cheek. Not really the greatest of things, but not something I want to show off." He opened the oven and looked at something cooking inside.

"Can I get some for Harry?" Hermione asked. He might finally be able to hide that accursed scar of his. Roland smirked at her, and she realized she was blushing. That was happening a lot whenever she talked about him.

"Probably, but won't do him any good," Roland replied. Hermione was about to ask why, but Roland continued. "His scar is famous, everyone knows that he is The-Boy-who-Lived, and that scar proves it. Without, people would be constantly asking him, 'Are you Harry Potter?' 'Why don't you have your scar?' Or rather challenge him, to prove who he is. No, Harry is best off with his scar, as horrible as it." He stood and closed the oven. "Lunch is in the oven, just cook it at four hundred degrees for a good two hours and you'll be set." He fixed his tie a final time, and walked toward the front door.

"Wait," Hermione said, stopping Roland, "call me when you're over at Harry's. I want to talk to him." she stared at the floor and was fighting off a blush. Hermione stood there, waiting for something from Roland's mouth, about how she loved him. But nothing came; he remained silent. When she looked up her cousin was smiling at her, and nodded. "Thanks." She rushed over and hugged him hard.

He sighed. "Just listen to me the next time I tell you something," Roland replied, his voice sounding almost tired and weak. It was so different then his other voice and Hermione looked up at the sound of it. Roland had changed in that short time. He was almost older for some odd reason. "You can look at the books that are on my bed." He released her. His voice had changed back to its melodic sound. "And only those." Hermione nodded, and Roland was out the door. Before the door closed, she watched as he pulled a pair of sunglasses out from his pocket and placed them on.

Hermione sighed as her cousin left. She walked back over to the couch and slumped down into the chair. Roland kept pushing at the fact that she loved Harry, which just wasn't true. She loved Ron, that's why they were going out, wasn't it? _I mean, Ron makes me happy, he says nice things about me_, she thought,_ I make him happy, I know that much. _ There was just so much going on that Hermione had a hard time with: Ron asking her out, she saying yes, Harry becoming depressed, her cousin arriving and his secrets. _God, why do you have to make it so difficult? _

"Because there is so much," a man appeared and Hermione nearly fainted. It was the same man who was talking to Roland last night. "It's a lot to deal with. And love is no laughing matter." he looked so different then most ghosts that Hermione met. That didn't mean she wasn't afraid of it/him/her. She couldn't tell by the ghost's appearance whether or not it was male, female or anything.

"Who are you?" Hermione nearly jumped over her chair, away from the ghost. She instinctively reached for her wand, only to remember that it wasn't there.

"Consider me a guardian angel for now," the ghost replied. "I will talk and you will listen." He/she/it walked over to another chair and sat down in it. The ghost's voice was so melodic, but different than Roland's. His was almost a baritone sound, while this ghost's was more of an alto or soprano. And the way he talked had an eerie sense to it. Hermione decided that the ghost was male because of his voice.

"How do I know I could trust you?"

"Do you want the truth?" he smirked back at her

"What do you want?"

"What do _you_ want?" he replied back. Hermione scowled. _This ghost is playing with me, _she thought.

"Listen, I want a straight answer now, or so help me God…" her voice echoed through the house and a wind appeared out of nowhere accompanying it. The ghost started to laugh.

"I see why there is a certain interest in you, my dear," the ghost replied. "All that I am going to tell you is that you are something special." He gave her a look and Hermione quickly pulled her robe tight, a scowl on her face. The ghost laughed. "Special indeed."

"Special? Special how?" she asked. Then last night returned to her. "Like Roland?"

"No, my dear," the ghost replied. "There is no one quite like your dear cousin. He, in fact, is a one of a kind, never to be repeated in history again." He stood up and walked toward the door. "Pity though, history sure does need him," he said as he was leaving.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, "What do you mean?" she stood up and stared at the leaving ghost.

"Goodbye, my dear," the ghost replied, "I truly hope that we do not meet again." He stopped and looked toward her. "This was only a chance meeting and if I see you again, I will kill you. Not without having my fun first of course. " The ghost gave Hermione a final look; she gasped and took a step back. "Sweet dreams, my dear, sweet Hermione." The man smiled and his smile was otherworldly. Sharp pointy teeth were sparkling at her. Hermione collapsed down to her knees, and just stared at the ghost. She was so terrified that she couldn't move. "My dear, there are things that even your nightmares are afraid of. And I would be the least of your worries." The ghost walked through the door without another look at Hermione.

For a moment, she just sat there staring forward. That conversation only brought more questions to her. And there was someone thing about that ghost that she couldn't place, something dark about him despite all the white—whether it was the ghost's voice, or his manner, there was just something about it. It scared her and at the moment Hermione just wanted to be held by some one she trusted with all her life. She wanted Harry there, to comfort her, to hold her, to make her feel better, and Ron, too. But most of all, she didn't want to be alone. Tears poured down her cheeks, and Hermione exhaled deeply. She missed her best friend; she missed hearing his voice, seeing the way his eyes sparkled when she talked. In truth, she missed Harry. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, and prayed that Harry would be all right. Despite what Roland thought, there were times when God was needed and now was one of them.

()()()()()()

Harry was staring forward. He was beginning to think like he was yesterday, still upset about all that had happened, but not thinking about suicide. His mind was elsewhere, and he had more important things to think about. No matter how many times he thought about it, it still didn't seem right. Ron and Hermione going out; Harry would have never thought it in a million years. They were too different, they argued too much, and rarely agreed on anything. She was smart, witty, beautiful; a being of perfection in Harry's mind. While Ron was…Ron. There wasn't anything else to that. He didn't match her at all, not even partially. They just…

"Agh," Harry said, and slammed his fists onto his bed. He was just going to get himself even more frustrated. The best thing that he could do was allow it, and allow them to see their mistake. The only thing that matter was their happiness, and Harry just wanted them to be happy. Even if it meant self sacrifice.

He sighed again. It was going to be a difficult year. Without Sirius for him to vent through, Harry didn't have anyone he could really talk to, not with Hermione and Ron going out. As much as he knew that Hermione didn't want their relationship to change, it had, and now he was just a third wheel. All that meant was for him to focus on something else, schoolwork or maybe Quidditch. Harry moaned. He forgot; Umbridge had banned him from Quidditch for life. So school work it was.

Harry sighed one finally time and got up. Aunt Petunia said that he could even work on his homework if he wished, just so she could get a few words out of him. It didn't work as well as she wanted, but it did allow Harry to work on his written work. Some of the spells he wanted to work on from the year before he couldn't because of the Use of Underage Magic law. So instead, Harry just wanted to work on his Charms paper. Flitwick wanted a foot on the use of the terra charm, or earth moving. Harry didn't see it as too hard, since it was one of the few charms that he mastered on his first try. Even Hermione had to try the spell for a while. Harry thought back to that day.

_"Now class," Professor Flitwick said, "make sure that you remember the firm grip. When using this charm, the wand has a tendency to go flying out of your hand." _

_"Yes professor," the class replied, and set to work. Professor Sprout had allowed them to use some pots in order to practice. The class was comprised of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, so the professor knew that they should be able to get the charm pretty quickly._

_Unfortunately, that didn't happen. The majority of the class was having a hard time with the pronunciation of the spell, while some continued to hold their wand too loosely and they would go flying. Ron had tried for the past five minutes and he couldn't get it. He stopped and allowed Hermione to give it a try. Professor Flitwick was walking around, helping some students with the pronunciation. Finally Hermione gave up. "Harry," she said, frustrated, "why don't you try?"_

_"C'mon, Herms," Ron said, "do you seriously think that…" he trailed off with Hermione glaring at him. Harry sighed, _it's my turn then_. He stepped up to the pot and focused. He pointed his wand at the pot and said softly. "_Terian Losia Leviosa_." Immediately, the pot's soil came up into the air and quickly back down in the pot. There was dead silence in the room Harry reached down and touched the soil. It was firm and compacted, which probably meant that Harry did the spell right. _

_Professor Flitwick came over and looked at his pot. When he looked back up, he had a smile on his face. "Well done, Mr. Potter," he said. "It seems that some people have been paying attention." As much as he hated it, Harry was at the center of attention. But the oddest thing was, for the first time that Harry had known Hermione, she was staring at him with awe. Even on the train when they had first met, it was more curiosity than awe. But now there was a sense of wonder and admiration. Harry looked over at Ron and saw a hint a jealousy there, as if he was upset that he didn't get it before Harry. _

_When Flitwick walked away, it was Hermione who spoke up first. "Harry, that was amazing," she said," how did you do that on your first try?" Harry just shrugged his shoulders. He thought that it was nothing special, the spell wasn't that hard. Was it?_

Harry walked over to his desk and picked up his Charms book. He had some notes in the margin, but probably nothing like Hermione's. _That's it then, I'll do better than Hermione. _He set it back down and went over to his trunk and pulled out his parchment. _Best get to work if I'm going to beat Hermione. _

()()()()()()

Hermione sat on Roland's bed, reading one of the books he had left out for her. It was fascinating, talking about the mythology of the Christian, Jewish and Muslim religions. It was mostly about demons and angels. Hermione found that a common theme was that angels or demons could mate with humans and produce viable offspring. She thought the whole idea was absurd and the fact that these books even gave the notion that these creatures were real was ridiculous. Angels and Demons didn't exist.

Hermione placed that one down, and picked up another. _Elemental Theories and Uses _it read. _Odd,_ she thought,_ why would he want me to read this?_ Hermione began to thumb through it, looking at what little pictures it had. In the back there was an elaborate copy of a painting showing the five elements: Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Light. But when she got to the back, a bunch of folded papers were sitting there. Hermione picked then out and opened them. _Shadow Elemental: the Most Powerful Beings in the World,_ read the title of the passage. It seemed that these pages were turn out of another book. She flipped through them and found a note at the back of the pile. It was written quickly, and obviously a man's handwriting.

_Hermione,_

_I sort of hoped that you would read through this book first, and find my note. It doesn't really matter in the end, but this book contains information that you would find interesting though it is lacking in a certain area, hence the reason for the torn pages. Don't worry, the library I took it from doesn't know. _

_Anyways, read this book closely. Though you will find pure unadulterated propaganda, the data that is in this book is useful to know. I just hope you can tell the difference between the propaganda and real information. _

_Just be careful and don't try any of the spells. (_Spells? there are spells in here? She thought) _the ministry picks them up in case you're wondering. _

_With love,_

_ Roland Demoas. _

Hermione put the note back down, and returned her eyes to the book. There was something special about that, and it brought back her horrible memory about the morning. For the most part she blocked that memory, but it came back to her. Her arms wrapped around her, holding the book. She missed Harry, and wanted to hear him speak. All that she could hope for was that his call would come soon. As good of a boyfriend that Ron was, even he couldn't help her.

She sniffled and realized that she had started to cry. Hermione wiped a tear away and thought back to all the good times in her life. And almost every memory, save her recent ones with just her and Ron, had Harry in them. Sure she had happy memories before Hogwarts and at home between the years, but nothing really compared to her memories of Harry. And Ron, she quickly added. But that didn't stop the tears; it just made them come faster. "Don't cry, dear," a soft sweet voice said. Hermione jumped and nearly fell off the bed. "Oh, dear did I scare you?"

She looked at this woman, or, what appeared to be a woman. Her pale white skin was offset by the red dress that she wore; it reached the floor. It seemed that her hair was on fire, dancing behind her. But the strangest thing was the woman's eyes. They were the greenest eyes that Hermione had ever seen, next to Harry's. In all aspects she was beautiful; perfect in a word. But that didn't mean Hermione trusted this woman. "Who are you?" she dropped down to the floor and stared over the bed at the woman.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman replied. She was so polite and looked so timid. "I didn't mean to scare you." The woman smiled at Hermione, her teeth were perfect. "You just looked up upset and I-I-" the woman began to stutter, and a frown. "I'm truly am sorry."

"You didn't answer my question," she replied, but not as harshly. "I want an answer this time."

"This time? Oh dear," she said. The woman had a worry painted on her face, and turned away from Hermione, biting a fingernail. "It appears that my brother has already been here." She turned back to Hermione. "I truly hope he wasn't too dreadful. That man has been more trouble then he's worth. But we need him none the less." The woman sighed and then remembered what Hermione asked. "Oh, you wanted my name didn't you?" she took a seat on the bed. "You can call me the Phoenix or Lillian. I personally like Lillian better, a bit less formal." She smiled and Hermione was relaxed. She wanted to trust this woman, she really did. But with what happened this morning, and the way that 'ghost' treated her, Hermione didn't know. "I know this will sound corny, but you can trust me. My brother is a true arse, down to the core. Most of the time he just does what he wants, and I have no idea why he came here."

Hermione stood up and sat down on the other side of the bed. "He probably wanted to talk to my cousin," she said, "your brother was here last night, too."

"Oh, so this is the Hunter that we've been hearing about," Lillian said. "He seems so sweet, despite what has happened." She shook her head.

"What do you know about my cousin?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, no dear," Lillian smiled, "you're not getting that out of me. His story is that, his, my dear. He will tell you when he is good and ready." Her eyes pleaded with Hermione, "please don't go looking for it." Hermione, as much as she wanted to know, broke down and agreed with this woman. There was just something about her that seemed so nice. "Good, enough with that, now I guess that you were crying because of my brother?" Hermione nodded. This woman seemed so much like her cousin.

"Yeah," Hermione said, moving some of her hair out of her eyes. "He was just so rude and mean and …" she didn't know how explain it. There was this whole aura about him that terrified Hermione. She shuddered. A tear fell down her cheek, and Hermione sniffled.

"There, there, Hermione," Lillian replied. "Just be thankful that he isn't related to you. I had to live with the man for so long." She took Hermione in her arms and hugged the young girl. "Just remember, that man is a mean little bastard and nothing is going to change that." Hermione laughed, and tried to hold that smile. "You are a smart girl, Hermione," Lillian continued, "There is a certain someone in your life that will make you extremely happy. You just have to look for it. It's right in front of you." Hermione nodded, and continued to smile. "I just wish that you could see it," Lillian said it softly. It was so soft that Hermione barely heard it.

"Now," Lillian said, with her own sniffle, "you take care and listen to your cousin. He is, in a sense, the reason why a lot of people continue to live. He seems so strong and tough. But, and remember this, this is important, Hermione, there will be times when he needs people and he will push them away. Don't let him. His mind is fragile as it is, and with some new predicaments coming up, he will need all the friends he can get. Just keep your mind and heart open, and you will see the truth." G_od, it sounded as if she was talking about Harry._ Lillian stood up and smiled at Hermione. "You are a beautiful girl, Hermione, never forget that." Lillian smiled one finally time before walking toward the window. Hermione inhaled deeply as she watched this woman transform into a phoenix. She looked so much like Fawkes.

Hermione looked back at the book that she had been reading before, the one about the religions. It mentioned something about phoenixes being the bringers of joy and pleasure. Often they were symbols of hope and life; for they were suppose to rise from the ashes of their death. _She said that her name was the Phoenix_, Hermione remembered. _That could be like some code name or something._ But she didn't really believe that, not after what the woman's Animagus form was a phoenix. Magical animal Animagus forms were said to be the hardest to obtain, and the phoenix was one of the rarest, rarer then a dragon.

Hermione picked the book up again, and flipped through it, looking for the section on the phoenix. _There,_ she thought. It was a rather long passage on the use of the phoenix in the different religions of the world. People viewed it as a symbol of hope and wrote it in with along with the rest of their beliefs. It was a very powerful symbol. _That could be why Dumbledore has on in his office, they were said to make people feel better just by their presence. _But there was something else about them. Some myths talked about people becoming a phoenix in great times of need. _Is that possible? A person with great magic becoming a phoenix? _

The image of the woman came back to her. There was only one person that had eyes like that, and that was Harry. And it was his mother who he received those eyes from. _Lillian Potter…_ Hermione thought. _Lillian was the name of the Phoenix. _It couldn't be. Lily Potter had been died for over fifteen years. It wasn't possible. No one could return from the dead. By all laws of magic, it wasn't possible. But that woman looked so much like… well, Hermione didn't know what Lily Potter looked like, but if anything, she was sure that that woman was Harry's mother. But, there was no real proof about it, only her word and Hermione doubted that she would see the Phoenix again. She didn't want to bring false hope to Harry, especially on matters such as that. No, better wait and try to figure out more on the Phoenix. _Maybe there's something else in Roland's books. _She picked up the _Elemental Theories and Uses_ and began reading it, hoping to find some information.

()()()()()()

Roland was pacing in an alley. A friend was supposed to meet him here and he was late. The sun hung in the middle of the sky, which meant that Roland was done with all of his meetings with his boss. Apparently there had been some problems in the London Branch of Wayne Enterprises, and Roland was needed to help clarify a few details on the plans for their new energy source. So Roland had to listen to a few bureaucratic scientists complain that his plans didn't work. Of course they worked, he had made them himself. If the damned scientists couldn't understand the concept of fourth dimensional essence, that wasn't his problem. If they couldn't open their god-forsaken minds, that wasn't his god-damned problem.

Roland took a large left hook into the wall and building shook violently. His anger was evident. Beneath his sunglasses, he felt that fire burn in his eyes. Roland looked at the wall, and saw the large hole that he had made, then down to his fist. His fist wasn't even hurt by the wall; some skin was torn off, but there was no blood. A silver piece of something was beneath the skin and reflected the light. Roland growled and quickly tried to cover up his wound. He had made a mistake, again. If he had used his right hand, then he could just heal the wound. Now, he would have to re-grow the skin. In his blind anger, Roland threw his right fist against the wall, this time taking out a huge chuck as he swung through.

"Temper," a man said, "temper, Al'Takas." Roland looked up at the source. A ghost white man was standing in front of him; he wore a pure white suit with his long white hair flowing down onto his shoulders. If someone walked by, they could almost swear that Roland and this man were doppelgangers. They almost looked alike save the hair and their clothes. Their faces were almost exactly alike.

Roland didn't have his tie on anymore and he looked almost like a drunk. He had circles under his eyes and was standing with his feet spread out. He was ready for a fight. "You lied to me," Roland replied simply, his anger focusing on the man. He hated that man for all he was worth. There was nothing else too it. He could have cost them everything.

"What, in the Gods' name, do you mean?" the ghost replied.

"You certainly know what I mean, Eonos," Roland snapped. His eyes glared at the ghostlike man. "You said that you would never meet them. Either of them."

Eonos shrugged his shoulders. "I came to see you, not her." he paused and walked closer to Roland; clearly thinking that it was safe. "She seemed so distraught and I thought that--" Eonos didn't get another word out. Roland had picked the man up and threw him against the wall. Eonos tried to get up, but Roland picked up Eonos by his neck and held the man against the wall. Eonos smiled and said through a strained voice, "A bad choice I see."

"They are under my protection, even if that means from you." Roland glared at Eonos. "May I remind you of that because you are not supposed to be even allowed on this plane?" Eonos frowned at Roland, realizing that he had hit a sore spot. "You have been allowed to stay simply because I have asked you to. So if you can't remember anything else remember this: they are the only thing that truly matters according to the Tapestry. Not you, not me, not even them. Their fate is set in the Tapestry, and must not be changed. And I will make sure that it doesn't." Roland growled at Eonos, his true side showing. But he didn't care. Everyone could have been lost if this idiot truly messed up. "In simpler words, Eonos, stay away from them, or I will kill again."

Roland threw down Eonos, and stormed off. He left behind the man in white, not caring about his fate. The only fate that mattered was theirs. It was the reason why he existed in the first place, at least that was what Roland thought. Little did he know that Eonos was smiling at the little display that had just occurred in the alley. "Tell me again, sis," Eonos said standing up, "why do I have to be the bad guy?" he brushed off the dirt and grim of his suit and turned around. There stood a beautiful woman wearing the reddest dress ever seen. The woman bore the reddest hair ever seen, as if it was one fire, and had emeralds for eyes. "Really, how did you talk me into it?"

The woman giggled and walked over to her brother. "It was quite simple, brother," She replied, her voice like a nightingale in the morning, "I'm cuter than you are and there for an automatic good." She giggled again and ran over to her brother, hugging him tightly around the neck and smiling. The woman gave him a kiss on the cheek, and He returned the hug but stared back out toward where Roland left.

"You are such a little girl," Eonos replied, "I can't even believe they are allowing you to come back." She released her brother and looked at where he was looking at.

The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Well, partially come back," she said, "I can't go back in my body yet, at least not until the Fallen Angel is found." She held her crossed her arms across her chest and shifted back and forth on her feet

"And you act like one too," Eonos said, but smiled at his sister, "I feel terrible at doing that to him."

"Why, he's just another human?" the woman said. She looked off where he was staring. "What does it matter?"

"It matters," Eonos said, "because I believe he was meant to be one of us, the elementals I mean."

"What do you mean?" she raised an eyebrow at her cousin. "How can he be one of us? He isn't special." Eonos remained silent. "He is. How?"

"That information would jeopardize his life." Eonos looked back at his sister.

"You actually care about that human." Eonos snorted. "He's not human?!"

"Not your definition, at least," Eonos smiled. "No, he would be a true guardian angel, Phoenix, if he was one of us."

"I don't like that name, Eonos," the woman replied, "I prefer Lillian or Lily, thank you very much" She gave Eonos a pouting face, and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Yes, sis," Eonos said, "As I was saying, I believe that he is the one of the Shadow elements."

"How can you tell?" Lily asked.

"The way he walks, how he acts, even by his voice," Eonos said, "anyone who has ever seen a Shadow Element knows what to look for. It's that obvious."

"But there's something else, isn't there?" Lily replied. She clapped her hands and jumped up and down. "Tell me, tell me, and tell me."

"Relax, Lily," he said sternly and firmly. Lily relaxed a bit. "It doesn't matter, but he could be one of those we are searching for."

"That would mean we have the Light element, Fire, and Shadow. That would leave the Air Element, Earth and Water."

"Water will be the hardest of them to find," Eonos said. "Earth and Air, they will be together, that's for sure."

"Why"

"You haven't been dead long enough to remember," Eonos replied, "but those two are soul mates, always. And in every generation, they always seek each other out." Eonos shrugged his shoulders. "That's just they way things are." He turned walked down the alley. "Come, we have to leave these people for the moment. There is work that needs to be done. He needs to be found, and hopefully, Roland will get us there." He slowly dissolved into the air, leaving the Phoenix standing there alone. "I just hope that we find you soon, Fallen Angel." She spoke softly and ran where Eonos was headed, disappearing into the air.

()()()()()()

Harry was sitting on his bed, reading through his potions book. A piece of parchment paper was next to him, as was his quill. The paper had notes scribbled on it regarding the potions essays he was reading. For an hour, Harry had sat there, reading and taking notes. It was an interesting segment on the creation of the wolfsbane potion. Apparently, some of the ingredients were hard to find, but invaluable in the creation of the potion. _I wonder where Remus gets all of those ingredients then. _

The doorbell rang down stairs, and a few moments later, Uncle Vernon called down for Harry. He sighed and shifted his books off his lap. Despite the fact that his mood was somewhat better, he didn't feel up to doing a lot of things, which included worked for the Dursleys. He was still upset about Sirius' death and Ron and Hermione, along with a few other things. But the major one was concerning his friends; Harry didn't really know how to handle it. He didn't know if he could handle it.

Walking down the stairs, Harry saw Roland smiling. He was leaning against the doorframe, wearing his dark sunglasses, and looked like hell. His suit was dirty, the tie was missing and the first couple buttons were missing. But he was smiling nonetheless. "Harry," he said walking up toward the stairs. "It's good to see you out of your room and up and about. That's certainly a sign of improvement." He stopped just in front of Harry. "It took me two whole weeks to get out of my room." Roland shrugged his shoulders. "Come; let's go talk in your room." He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and led him back up to his room.

"Sure," Harry replied, and allowed himself to be led back upstairs. He didn't know what his reason for being in such a good mood was. As soon as they reached his room, Roland waited until they got inside and locked the door. "I wanted to ask you a question before you ask me anything."

"Okay," Roland replied, took a seat on his desk. "Shoot." Harry sat down on his bed.

"Are you a mutant?" Roland's jaw dropped and he stared at Harry for a moment, not talking. Slowly, he removed his sunglasses, and looked at the ground. "Well are you?" Harry repeated. Roland looked at Harry, and he saw what was hidden behind his sunglasses, nothing. An empty hollowness hung where his eyes were meant to be.

"Yes," Roland replied, "yes, I am and I have no idea as to why I am telling you this." He shook his head back and forth, and then looked back at the ground. "How did you find out?"

"I saw you disappear yesterday," Harry said, and Roland just nodded again. "You were there on moment, turned all black then disappear."

"And that's all, right?" Roland asked. Harry nodded. "Good, I thought it was something else." It was obvious that Roland was more relaxed; his breaths became further apart and his shoulders were almost slouched. "I must say, Harry, you are something special, though." Harry rolled his eyes at Roland. "No, seriously, you have an open mind about mutants. You don't let the sheer idea that a mutant is different disrupt you from the chance of making a friend." Roland sighed. "I just wish that was more common." He shrugged his shoulders and looked back up. "Now, how are you feeling?"

Harry knew that this was coming. In fact that was part of the reason why Roland was over there in the first place. Harry sighed. "I don't know, to tell you the truth." Roland raised an eyebrow. Harry looked at the man and found it hard to concentrate with the hollow eyes staring at him. "Could you…um…?"

"Oh," Roland felt his face, and realized that he didn't have his sunglasses back on. He quickly placed his sunglasses back on. "Much better."

"Anyways," Harry continued. "I just don't know; there are a lot of things that I still am having trouble with…"

"That's why I'm here, Harry," Roland said, "To listen. You can talk about anything you want, and I'll listen and help you deal with your problems."

And talk they did, for what seemed liked hours. Harry talked about his school and about his friends and their new relationship. Roland helped Harry understand everything: why his friends were going out, that he wasn't always going to be a third wheel, and why Dumbledore did what he did. Roland seemed to understand just about everything that Harry was going through. But finally, they got off the topic of Harry, and onto Roland and his powers.

"So what school did you go to?" Harry asked.

"Huh?" Roland replied.

"You're a wizard, right?" Roland nodded. "What school did you go to?"

"The Washington Academy for Wizards," Roland smiled and leaned back against the wall. "A pretty big school, not as big as Hogwarts, at least as population wise, but the building itself is pretty big. I believe that we sort of have the same kind of schedule where the students stay all year, save the summer. We play Quidditch and compete in the Eastern Tournaments at the end of the year, and the winner plays against the winners of the Western Tournaments."

"How many wizarding schools are there in America?"

"About ten or so," Roland chuckled. "They keep on changing some the names of the schools, so it kind of hard to know if it's a new school or just a new name." He shrugged his shoulders. Finally Harry asked the question that he really wanted to know.

"What are your powers?" Harry asked. Roland sighed. "Come, if I can talk to you, then you can certainly talk to me."

"Just my mutant powers, nothing else, okay?" Harry nodded, but didn't know why Roland was asking that. "Okay, I have slight shadow manipulation." Roland shrugged his shoulders. "In other words…" he trailed off and looked past Harry. Slowly, he raised a hand and Harry's shadow followed it, rising into a large lump next to him. It seemed to gain a corporeal state, and Harry reached out to touch it. It moved back a bit, and when Harry touched it, it felt cold and almost empty. "I can do that, amongst other things." Roland shrugged his shoulders again. "I can also transport myself through the shadows, and fly a tad bit. It's not much, but…" he trailed off again and looked down at the ground.

"Does that explain your eyes?" Roland shrugged.

"Sort of," he replied, "it's hard to explain." He stopped there, clearing not wanting to continue.

"So you aren't blind?" Roland shook his head no. They sat in silence for a while, Harry wanting to leave Roland in his thoughts. There wasn't much else to talk about at that moment, either.

A look of surprise crossed Roland's face suddenly. "It's that time already?" he said, but was clearly not talking to Harry. Roland sat up and looked forward. "Damn it, Hermione is going to-" he paused and reached into his coat. "Which reminds me. Here, Harry." Roland threw Harry a small black cell phone. "Hermione wanted you to call her today and talk. Her number is already programmed into it. Don't worry about how long or when, I'm paying for it." Roland turned to leave, his back facing Harry, but stopped. "One more thing," he paused again, "two actually. Tomorrow, be dressed to go out. I'll be here around the same time, okay?" Harry nodded. "And don't tell Hermione about my special abilities, if she has to ask." Harry nodded again, but was confused. Why did Roland want that? Harry didn't get a chance to ask, as Roland was out the door quickly and silently, moving as a shadow.

_I wonder what he meant by that? _Harry picked up the phone in his lap and looked at it carefully. The body was black and the keys were white, the screen was extremely detailed, almost like a mini-computer screen. There was a silver inscription on the front, _Motorola. _Holding it in his hand, it felt light, almost weightless. For a few minutes, Harry tried to figure out how to turn it on, and found the button on the top that turned it on. The screen flashed, and a little egg appeared on it. It bore both a black-feathered wing and a white bat-like wing. The wings were wrapped around the egg, which seemed to shift in colors, mainly black and white. The background was gray, with black clouds and red lightning split the screen ever few moments. _Odd, why would Roland program a phone like this. _

"Welcome," the phone said, "please state person you wish to call." Harry was taken back. The phone actually talked, he had never heard of something like this before.

"Um, Hermione," Harry answered the phone, feeling a bit odd.

"Full name please." The voice sounded annoyed, almost.

"Hermione Granger," Harry repeated. The screen flashed and turned white, the words _Dialing_ could be read on it. Harry put it up to ear and listen to the phone ring. Someone picked up on the other end and said, "Hello?"

"Hermione," Harry said, hoping that it was her.

"Harry?!" her voice was shocked almost. "I didn't expect your call so soon." Harry smiled; apparently, Roland told her that he was calling. "Are you okay, feeling better?" he smiled, it seemed like she was always thinking of him.

"A bit," he replied, and leaned back against the wall. "I've been talking with Roland."

"Did you know he was my cousin?" Hermione asked with enthusiasm. Harry could just see that smile on her pretty face.

"Yeah, he told me," Harry smiled. "So what's he like around you?"

"I don't know, you've probably seen him more then I have in the past few days."

"How ever true that may be, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh, "he's still your cousin."

"He was only here a few days before he went to see you Harry." There was a long pause. "Harry?" Her voice had lost its enthusiasm and seemed serious and down.

"Yeah?"

"How are you with me and Ron? Do you think that we would make a good couple?" There was a long pause from Harry. In truth, he didn't like it. He didn't believe that they were going to me a good couple. But there was no way he was going to tell her that.

"As long as you're happy," Harry sighed, "I'm happy." That was the truth. If he could just see her smile, it would make his day. That was his final wish, before he died; Harry wanted to see Hermione smile one final time.

"Thanks," Hermione replied. Harry could almost see Hermione push her hair behind her ear. "That means a lot to me, Harry."

"Like I said, Hermione," Harry repeated, "anything that would make you happy.' He smiled again, just thinking of her smiling. "That's all that I really care about."

"Thanks, again, Harry. So how was my cousin?"

For what seemed like hours, they talked, at times almost about nothing. And Harry enjoyed every minute of it. He loved to hear that soft laugh from his friend, and could picture her smile perfectly, her blush at some of things he said. Harry seemed to know how Hermione always looked, and could picture her exactly as if she was in front of him. He wished that they could talk forever. But he knew that it would end soon. And soon it did. "Harry, listen, my parents just came home…" Hermione trailed off, and Harry sighed. He knew what they meant.

"Take care Hermione," Harry said, and she said her good bye to him. Harry waited until she hung up her phone before he ended his call.

Talking to Hermione had made his day, his week, and his month probably. It had livened up his thoughts and Harry couldn't remember a time when he was happier. _Maybe when Sirius was around_, but Harry didn't want to think about the fact now that his godfather wasn't there anymore. Now was a time for remembrance and grief, but Harry couldn't, wouldn't think about Sirius being gone. No, he would rather just hold it back in, and put on the front of being a strong person. He was, after all, the hero, the Boy-Who-Lived. And no one would ever love the Boy-Who-Lived. It was something that Harry had to accept and live with.


	4. Dark Memories

Chapter 3: Dark Memories

By: Chronos the Fallen Angel

Author's Notes: I know that this chapter is taking along time to post, I've just been having a hard time thinking of the bridges that I need to the pivotal points in the story or at least the points that I know are going to happen. And as much as it seems, this isn't a Ron/Hermione story. I would have to kill myself if I caught myself writing as such.

Note to readers, I'm sorry if this is off in any way, but the man featured in the story is based off of the mall near me. So if anything is off or something like, just tell, me and I will be glad to change it.

Again, Harry Potter and company is owned by J.K. Rowlings, X-men is owned by Marvel Comics, and any DC characters is owned by DC Comics.

()()()()()()

Roland was due to arrive in a few minutes, and Harry wasn't sure about going out. After, all most of his clothes were old hand-me-downs from Dudley and his wizarding clothes. Harry doubted that they were going to the wizarding world. Roland may be a wizard, but his manner was so different then most wizards and witches he met. It was erratic and calm, kind and almost cruel. And there was something about him that made you want to trust him. Odd truly, Dumbledore didn't even have that quality. Harry picked up one of his robes, his Hogwarts one to be precise. If he took off the patch that said Hogwarts he might be able to use it as a coat.

But he threw it back onto his bed. No, it would be too long. And Harry didn't know the spells to transfigure cloths, or even if you could. Professor McGonagall hadn't taught them that. Harry took a look at the mess he made on his bed. Sighing, he picked up all the clothes and was putting them back into his trunk as the doorbell rang. _That must be Roland._ Harry looked at his clothes and sighed again; it was the best he could do. He walked toward the door and was about to open it, but it was thrown open from the other side. Uncle Vernon stood there, red as he had ever been. Harry was expecting a beating, but nothing came. "Your friend," he said slowly, pronouncing each word. "Is here for you, _Harry_." The word 'Harry' was emphasized and Harry saw his uncle clench his teeth.

"Oh," Harry said solemnly, just looking forward to getting out of the house, "okay." With that he walked down the stairs, just staring ahead. He saw Dudley and his Aunt in the hallway, staring at the door, almost frightened of what they saw. Confused at the way his relatives were acting, Harry shrugged his shoulders and walked out the door. Out there was a long black limo waiting for him. A chauffer opened the door, and out stepped Roland, wearing his long black coat and a cowboy hat. He wore his sunglasses, but at least Harry had an idea about it. And there was a strained smile on his face, which surprised Harry. For the past two days, Roland was happy, and you could almost feel it. But here, the smile was almost forced. And Harry knew a thing or two about forced smiles.

But he just returned the smile as he entered the car. Roland took one final look at the house before snorting and entering the limo. Harry had taken a seat next to one of the windows so he could watch the scenery. He didn't even look back at the Dursleys. He didn't want to go back, but he knew that it would end eventually. At least he could get out of the house, and away from them. "But wait," Harry called as Roland entered the car. "Don't I have to stay with them because of the spell?"

Roland chuckled and he had a genuine smile on his face. "No," he replied, "not really. The spell is renewed everyday you spend there. As long as you are at that house, it is there, and protecting you, building as the day grows." Roland shrugged his shoulders, "so the spell strengthens each day. By the end of the summer, if you were there every day for the entire day, you would have enough power stored in you for a year at Hogwarts. The spell would protect you."

"So should I stay?" Harry asked.

"That's up to you Harry," Roland said, and his smile disappeared. "You are a strong young man, whose powers can only grow. I believe that if you had proper training, you could take care of yourself." He shrugged his shoulders. "But enough of that." The limo stared at the end of the sentence, and sped off. "Let me fix those clothes for you." Roland drew a metallic looking wand and pointed it at Harry. He muttered some intangible words and Harry cloths quickly transfigured themselves. Harry was now wearing a pair of loose fitting jeans and a white muggle golf shirt. His shoes were a pair of gray tennis shoes that actually fit him. "Much better."

"I was going to ask you about that." Harry looked down at his shirt. "I didn't think that I was just going to wear my hand-me-down cloths."

"No, I planned this all out," Roland said, and reached over to the little fridge in the limo and pulled out two Pepsis© for them. "Catch." He tossed it over to Harry who caught it and stared at the can. "It's call pop, Harry." The Boy-who-Lived looked up at Roland. "You drink it." Again a blank stare. "There really did deprive you of the basic things in life." Roland chuckled and Harry managed to smile about his life. Roland quickly showed Harry how to open it, and he found that it was almost as good as Butterbeer. Almost.

For what seemed like an hour or so, they talk. It was almost like talking to Ron or someone else from Hogwarts. When they finally talked about Quidditch, Roland showed Harry the newest edition of the Daily Prophet, which was advertising the latest broom on the market, the Dark Star. It handled better then the Firebolt. "But not even as fast as my Ragnorak." Roland beamed with pride.

"I heard about that broom," Harry replied, "said to reach speeds over 200 miles an hour. The handling isn't so great, kind of hard to turn it. But the balance is supposed to be so good that a person could stand up on it and fly as if he was holding it in his hands." Roland smiled and leaned back.

"God, I miss that," he said

"Miss what?"

"Quidditch," Roland replied, "I can't play anymore, at least at my old school."

"Me too," Harry looked down at he ground.

"Really, I find that surprising. From what Hermione has told me about you, you were supposed to be the youngest Seeker that your house has had in decades."

"Our DADA teacher banned me from it," Harry frowned. "That old bat was terrible. Because I didn't agree with what she said. I had to have detention with her for about a month." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "So what about you, how come you can't play?"

"Speared a kid going for the Quaffle," Roland smirked, "I will be remembered for that forever."

"What happened?"

"Score was in our favor," Roland told his story, "but their Seeker was better, at least for that match. Our top Seeker was out of the match because of an injury he got from the Chaser I slammed into. He took the Beater's bat and attacked him. So we brought in our second, and the game continued. Our Chasers, including me, were pounding the Hell out their Keeper. I was already pissed at said Chaser for taking out our Seeker, but when attacked he attacked one of my very good friends; I had no choice to retaliate. I rose high in the air and acted as if I was looking for the Snitch. When said Chaser finally got the Quaffle again, I dove at neck breaking speeds and slammed into him with all my weight. Nearly broke the kid's back. Ironically, I did find the snitch. We landed on the Quidditch Pitch pretty hard, and made a nice hole in it. Broke the kid's back in five different places, but I when I got up, I had the snitch in my hands. After that," Roland shrugged his shoulders, "we won, but I was banned from the Quidditch Pitch." He looked up at Harry. "How bout you, how did you get banned?"

"Well," Harry said, "my story isn't as long as yours."

"That's fine," Roland replied. "Any Quidditch story is good."

"Okay," Harry started. "We won the game despite the poor showing of our Keeper. And there was this prat, Draco Malfoy, who continued to verbally harass our Keeper and me after the game. Our Keeper happens to be one of my best friends."

"Ron?" Roland asked. Harry nodded his response. It was probably Hermione who told him, because Harry certainly didn't.

"Anyways, Malfoy finally insulted my parents, and I was having a rough year as it was, so I attacked him." Roland sat in silence and Harry watched as a smile grew on his face.

"Wonderful showing then," he said. "But I think that if you are going to fight, then you should learn how to use a weapon other then your hands or wand." Roland shrugged his shoulders. "That would be another discussion for another time."

"Why?"

"Because we are here, Harry," Roland pointed to the window. And sure enough, they were at one of the largest places Harry had ever seen, even compared to Hogwarts. It was a giant mall. "I figured we'd pick you up some decent Muggle cloths. And anything else you want." Harry turned from the window and stared at Roland. "What, can't I be nice?"

"I can't pay you back," Harry said.

"Don't care," Roland replied, "you are getting new clothes and what ever else you want, via order one Ms. Hermione Granger. And I quickly found out that when she speaks, you listen."

"How true," Harry smiled as the limo slowly stopped. He was still worried about the money and-

"Look Harry," Roland said, "Don't be worried about the money. I'm pretty well off, what with my job and what not. Besides, don't tell me that you wouldn't like a decent pair of cloths besides your wizarding cloths." He paused before adding. "And besides, Hermione would kill me if I didn't do this."

"Why?"

"Found out that I was going shopping a few days ago and told," Roland said, "Mind you, not asked, told me to buy you new clothes since I was spending so much time with you as it is. A bossy one she is."

"Oh," was all that Harry could say. It did seem like Hermione to be worrying about him like that. She always worried about him.

Roland opened the door and stepped out. "And she always will." He stepped out and Harry quickly followed him, almost excited about the day—almost.

()()()()()()

Dumbledore was reading a note that had just come from Charles Xavier, and was worried. It appeared that one of Xavier's students was visiting a student of Dumbledore's, as well as helping another one. But that wasn't what worried him. It was the heritage that the boy owned. From what he learned of the recent Death Eater actives, it was a rather unique one at that. And from what he knew of Severus' reports, this could be bad. Luckily, none of the other order members, save Moody, Lupin, or Tonks, knew that information. That meant that he needed to find a way to help protect the rest. Knowledge is always the first part in protection, but that kind of knowledge could get someone killed.

"There is a way, though," Dumbledore got up and looked at the many books he had in his office. There could be a way that this could be used to their advantage. He needed someone to help train the students if this problem turned into a crisis. But from what Charles had said in his note, the boy wasn't even finished with his schooling yet. He needed two more years before he was fully done. But that didn't mean he knew of certain magical skills. "It is a possibly."

Dumbledore searched his bookshelf for a moment. A long time ago, he read a book about the elemental properties within the world. With this new development, it would probably be best to find someone who could teach those abilities. At least then his students wouldn't be left in the dark when the news of this new terror finally came into play.

He finally found the book that he wanted. _The Elemental Properties of the World _by Aeonos Al'Takos. Quite an odd name, but given the books old age, it seemed to fit. Dumbledore went back to his chair and began to read it. It had been so long since he had used his element, that he hoped that he was still proficient. _Maybe it is like riding a bike._

"Certainly is, Professor," a voice echoed the room. Dumbledore was immediately standing and had his wand drawn. He wasn't expecting anyone, and knew that it was impossible to apparate into Hogwarts. "It is, but who apparated?" Dumbledore looked around the room, trying to find his intruder.

"I demand that you show yourself." His voice boomed through the room. A blue aura glowed around Dumbledore, showing his anger. No one had ever entered his room without his permission.

"I'd rather not, thank you." The voice replied. Dumbledore's aura grew and stood out at least a foot away from him. A chuckle came from the darkness. "But if you insist." A man stepped out of the shadows. His face was beast-like, and fangs showed in his mouth. Skin darker than sin itself covered the creature's face, which was probably why he blended in with the shadows. He had cloak on, which shifted with his surrounds, almost like an invisibility cloak. But the smile, the smile was the worst part of him. It seemed almost excited about something. And for the first time in Dumbledore's life, he didn't have any idea of what he was going to do or how he was going to deal with this creature.

()()()()()()

Harry and Roland were shopping through a Department Store when Harry noticed that Roland was no longer following him. Since they had entered the giant mall, Harry had led the way, going where he wanted to, with Roland following. But now the man was standing still, almost looking around. "Damn it." Harry heard him whisper. He turned around to face Roland, and who wasn't even staring forward any more. He was facing east, but for the life of Harry, he couldn't figure out why.

Harry and Roland were shopping through a department store when Harry noticed that Roland was no longer following him. Since they had entered the giant mall, Harry had lead the way, going where he wanted to, with Roland following. But now the man was standing still, almost looking around. "Damn it." Harry heard him whisper. He turned around to face Roland, and who wasn't even staring forward any more. He was facing east, but for the life of Harry, he couldn't figure out why.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, but apparently nothing, because a smile slipped onto Roland's face.

"Nothing," he said. "Problem solved itself." He quickly caught up to Harry. "Come, I know there has to be shops that you would like to see." But Harry knew that there was something wrong, at least for a moment. But now wasn't the time to ask about. There were other things that had precedent.

()()()()()()

Dumbledore was amazed at the man in white standing in front of him. He had appeared right from the fire in a glorious light, but some odd reason, Dumbledore didn't trust this man anymore then the creature. It was like the aura of this man told the Headmaster this man's life and how horrible he had acted. Still, he couldn't leave this man without a thank you. "I really must thank you, sir," Dumbledore said weary of this man. "It has been a long time since I have faced one of those creatures."

"No thanks needed," the man said. He turned around and faced the Headmaster, and Dumbledore was surprised to see the man bore white globes for eyes. He had white hair that was tied in a ponytail. He wore a long white sleeveless robe that covered most of his body. "I just came where I was told."

"A Hunter sent you this way then," Dumbledore said, his smile coming back. He was right then, in assuming this creature's origin.

"How did you…" the man started to ask, but a smile came to his face. "You're Albus Dumbledore aren't you?" The Headmaster nodded. "By the Gods, it is an honor to meet you, sir. I've heard many things about you upstairs." The man held out his hand and Dumbledore shook it gently.

"And you are …" Dumbledore trailed off, hoping to get a name.

"Oh, yes, um…" The man trailed off, thinking for a moment. "Ah, yes, my name is Eonos, and I am a Peacemaker of the Choir of Angels."

"A Choir of Angels," Dumbledore smiled widely. "This is wonderful." He walked over to his chair and picked up his book. "Then you can help me."

"Wait, you don't want to know more about me or who sent me, or anything like that?" Dumbledore shook his head. "Why?"

"As much as your aura gives away, I've been able to theorize many things about you," Dumbledore said. "Like for example, you are ethereal like most of the time until you are called upon by a Hunter, like now. Also, you aren't an ordinary Angel either. No, you're different. But I doubt, from your appearance, you are a fallen one."

"Wow," Eonos relaxed on one of the side table. "How much do you know?"

"Only what I remember from this book," Dumbledore held up the book that was in his hand a few moments ago. "Quite a good amount of information on Angels and Demons and how they affect the Elements."

"Oh," was all Eonos said. He paused for a moment, trying to understand that a mortal knew of his world. The Angel changed the subject. "Earlier you said you wanted my help."

"Yes, I was wondering if you could advise me on someone, preferably a Hunter, to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts," Dumbledore replied. Eonos didn't reply for a while, apparently thinking about something. Dumbledore opened up the book that he held and read it while waiting.

"No direct interference?" The Headmaster looked up at the Angel.

"Of course not," Dumbledore replied, but didn't quite understand. It had to do with an Angel's Creed; he really did have to read that book again. "Just advice, not direct help."

"Okay then," Eonos replied, "I'll send the best man who for the job in a few days." He held out his hand. "And it was an honor to meet you, Professor." Dumbledore took and thanked the man for saving his life. "Well, I'd best get going."

"Before you go," Dumbledore said, "give the Hunter who sent you my thanks."

"Anything for you, sir," Eonos nodded. "Like I said, you are a hero upstairs. Good bye, sir." He disappeared in a bright flash of white light, leaving a smiling Dumbledore. It was quite possible that this year would be all right. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out, but it was just possible. Dumbledore smiled as he sat back down, and began reading the book that he held. Everything may be all right.

()()()()()()

It was around five when Harry and Roland finally stopped shopping. Harry had at least three different bags he was carrying and five others back at the limo. He was surprised at how much he could find that he wanted. And all the time Roland didn't complain about how much he was spending. There had to six hundred pounds worth of clothes in the limo. Roland had bought some items too, but nothing in comparison to Harry. After their first store that they bought some clothes in, Harry immediately changed out of his clothes. He found out that they weren't transfigured only cloaked in an illusion, which turned to another thing that he had to ask Roland about.

They stopped at the food court, and ordered food from the various places. Harry was a bit thrown back by the amount of people and the variety of the food, but he quickly caught on, and just ordered something from a sub sandwich place. He found Roland already eating a rather large salad, with two cheeseburgers next to him and a large drink. "You are actually going to eat all that?" he asked.

"Probably more," Roland replied. "I've been starving since twelve."

"We could've stopped sooner," Harry said. He began to think that it was fault they didn't stop sooner. Harry was perfectly fine and Roland wasn't complaining.

"Naw, you were having too much fun," Roland smirked. "It wasn't like I was dying or something." He added at the last moment. "yet." Roland shrugged his shoulders and picked up the burger, eating it quickly.

"Bloody hell, you eat faster then Ron," Harry said, and Roland just finished off the first burger. "How do you store all that food?"

"I don't," Roland opened up the other burger, "I use the energy." Harry was perplexed by Roland's answer and just watched his finish off the burger in a few bites.

"What do you mean?" Harry understood that magic had to come from somewhere, basic physics. He always thought that it was used when you used magic. But Roland wasn't using magic that Harry could see. "You're using magic now?" he said at a whisper.

"Something like that, Harry," Roland smirked. "You learn things when you spend hours upon hours in the library."

"Good god, now you sound like Hermione," Harry replied.

"Well, I have to," Roland said, looking down the mess he had made. "I'm not a natural, like some people. No, it took me a long time to understand half of the things you learn in the first week." Quickly, he shoveled the trash onto a tray and stood up. "Eat something for the Gods' sake; you're nothing but skin and bones." Harry watched as he walked away throw out his garbage and to get more food.

This left Harry with his thoughts. He was still upset about Sirius, but his talks with Roland had been a distraction, as had his anticipation to today. It seemed that Roland was distracting him almost. Since the first day that he had met the man, Harry couldn't help but be happy. He didn't really get a chance to be upset. But now, he had a chance to think for the first time in a while. And think Harry did.

He thought about the short time that he spent with Sirius and how much joy it brought him. He thought of how the look on his godfather's face when Harry finally got to live with him, and how it greatly affected his life. He thought of the gifts that he had gotten from his Sirius for his birthdays each year that he had known him. His sadness and despair slowly came back to him. He felt the tears come to his eyes, but held them back. "Really, I thought that we had worked on this," Roland said, sitting down. When Harry looked up, he noticed a tray filled with food, and Roland was already starting on the drink. "But then again, it could just be…" he trailed off as he ate, leaving Harry to it thoughts.

Harry tried to get happier thoughts, but for some odd reason, all his bad thoughts kept coming back. He thought of Sirius and the veil. He thought of how he didn't listen to Hermione. He thought of how Hermione got hurt because of him, and his bullheadedness. Damn, he was the fault of all the death around him. His parents were just the first, then Cedric and now Sirius. Everyone he loved or knew died because of him. His anger soared as he thought of how he would destroy that man for what he has done to his life and world and-

"Damn it, Harry," Roland said, getting up quickly. Harry snapped out of his trance and noticed the shattered glass near them. His anger had caused his wandless magic to go haywire and destroy something. "Fuck, even my magic isn't the out of control." There was no one around, luckily, but that wasn't what he was worried about.

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry said. He knew he was in trouble this time. The ministry said that if he used magic one more time outside of school, he would get expulsed. That could be possibly the worst thing that could happen.

"What?" Roland asked. He took his seat and unwrapped a taco. "What happened now?" he didn't seem upset about the destroyed table, but the people around them were.

Harry held his head in his palms and shook it. "The ministry is going to expel me." He just knew that was going to happen, but Roland laughed at the idea. "What's so funny?"

"Gods," he said, "I would love to see them do that." He had finished the small stack of tacos and was working on the sub sandwich he had gotten.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"If you get a letter tonight, read it, you'll find out." Roland had quickly eaten the sandwich and was chugging his drink. "Trust me on this, it'll be a laugh." He stood up and picked up his bags. "You can eat in the rest of your sandwich in the limo if you wish."

"We're going?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, sorta promised the Order to have you back before nightfall," Roland shrugged, "and Hermione as well. I don't fear them as I do her." Harry laughed at the comment. Even he knew that Hermione was a force to be reckoned with. Seeing her at the Ministry proved that. Harry just hoped that one day he could be as good at magic as she was. "C'mon." Roland grabbed Harry, and pulled him up. The Boy-Who-Lived quickly packed away his sandwich. Roland allowed him time to pick up the bags that he was carrying, but they just left as two security guards were coming.

Harry looked up as, Roland, who was supposed to be acting as a blind man was leading them around. In one hand were his bags, and the other was on Harry's shoulder. He held a walking cane in it as well, and his dark sunglasses were covering his eyes. It had to be pretty funny to watch, but it also had to attract attention. A smile formed on his face as he thought about the looks on people's faces.

"If you could lead us out, Harry," Roland finally said, as they stopped out in front of JC Penny's. "My sight gets distorted in enclosed areas." Harry was about to open his mouth, but Roland quickly, caught him. "Don't ask, I'll explain later." So, Harry took the lead and with Roland's hand still on his shoulder, led the man of the mall.

"Where's the-" Harry was about to ask, but the black limo came screeching up. "Oh." Was all that he could say. The door opened almost automatically, and Roland got in. Harry quickly followed, placing his bags near him. The limo sped off, and Roland relaxed in his seat. "What was that about?"

"Well, I figured that we needed to get out of there pretty fast." He paused, taking deep breathes, "Don't like security guards too much. Cause too much trouble."

"But what about the table and-" Roland waved a hand and Harry stopped.

"They'll take care of it." The man in black shifted for a moment, and leaned his head back. "Nope, nothing we are going to do, except wait 'til we get back and you can get your clothes and other stuff up to your room." Harry thought that Roland was trying to get some sleep, so didn't want to bother him with questions yet.

Instead, he drew back into his thoughts. He wondered how Remus and Tonks and Moody were doing. One of them was supposed to check on him, but with Roland here, that took care of the Order. Hermione hadn't sent him a letter in a long time. And Ron, he thought, was not speaking to him, about something or another. Maybe he could talk to Remus about this. Roland was fine and all, and got Harry to admit the fact that he did have a problem. But he needed to talk to someone who knew him, at least a bit. In the end, Harry wished to find the peace that needed. Roland had helped cope with it for a while, but that sorrow and despair that he was feeling remained. It now seemed to crawl back to him, and Harry needed to get a few things off his chest. Hopefully, Remus would be available for him to talk to tomorrow. Harry slowly drifted off to sleep, too. He was exhausted from his shopping experience. He didn't even see the large black owl come with a letter from the Ministry.

()()()()()()

Night had already fallen when her cousin returned. Hermione was staying up late, hoping to at least get a few words in. She had gone to visit Ron that day, but he was off with the twins doing something. So instead, she worked with Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Hermione was a bit upset because of that, but quickly got over it after spending a day baking. She never knew that cooking could be so much fun. It made her so relaxed and happy just doing something as simple as baking a cake. And when Ron finally returned (just before Hermione left too), he was so happy that she had made a cake. He thought it was for him, but it was a start. He smiled and told her how beautiful she was. They only had a few minutes together, but they made the best of them. Hermione blushed at that thought, and hope that her parents never found out.

"Hello there, Hermy," Roland said in a sweet voice. Hermione jumped nearly out of her favorite chair. No sound had come from anywhere in the house, Hermione would have heard. And she was sitting in front of the door, watching it for her cousin. Then how did her cousin get in?

Hermione sighed, and held up a hand for Roland to help her up. "A bit late for such a fragile, young girl isn't it, cousin?" his tone was obnoxious and sarcastic, so obviously he must be a good mood.

"Very funny, Roland," she replied, straitening her nightgown. It was silk white and she wore a t-shirt over. "And I told you before not to call me that." Her anger echoed in the back of her throat.

"Right, it's only for your boyfriend to call you by nicknames." Hermione tried to hit in the shoulder, by he moved out of the way.

"No," she said, "I don't even allow him to shorten my name." Hermione turned around and crossed her arms. "I like my name and am proud of it, thank you very much."

"Okay," Hermione heard Roland start walk away, but he stopped and added, "Oh, yeah, Harry says thank you for pushing me to take him shopping." Excitement took over, and for few moments, Hermione forgot to be mad at her cousin.

"He did," she asked, "you did?" A nod followed each question and Hermione wrapped her arms around Roland after the last one. "Thank you so much." Roland smiled at Hermione. "How did he like it; did he enjoy shopping?" She released him, and looked up with expectations.

"Getting out of those dastardly clothes is enough for anyone to enjoy shopping, Hermione." His smile remained on his dark face, but was the extent at which Hermione could see it. "It's bed time, so why don't we head up and get some sleep."

"Are you going to leave as early?" A look of hope appeared on her face. Roland had left from the Granger's house at least by eight, and Hermione had barely anytime to see him anymore. She wanted to talk to him about the books he left. She also wanted to hear more about the American Wizarding schools. They seemed so much different then the ones in Europe. But most of all, she just wanted to spend time with her cousin. She missed him.

"No, I have a few days off," Roland said. A smile came to her face at the idea of being with her cousin. "I plan on spending it. I just have a few things to do tomorrow-" Hermione's face dropped. "But none of it involves me leaving the house." He shrugged his shoulders. "So, I'll be here to talk to you on just about anything you want to talk about."

"Thanks," she gave him another hug, and then hurried upstairs. There was so much that she wanted him to teach her. By even having the books that he did, Roland must at least know something. He might be even willing to tell her about that man and Phoenix person. Yes, he must know something about those people; after all, he talked to one of them. Maybe he was the person she could talk to about them.

()()()()()()

"Well, Thomas," a young man's voice echoed the dark halls where Voldemort held his meetings. "It seems that my son has befriended both of them. Just as we predicted." The man picked up another piece of what looked like raw meat on a thighbone of a large animal and ate it. "A delicious piece here, are you sure you don't want to try some, Thomas?"

"As I have told you before, Balefor," Voldemort's voice was easily recognizable, though he was not seen. "I have asked you to call me by proper name, Lord Voldemort."

"Yes," Balefor replied, "well, you will have to get used to it, Thomas. He will use every thing in his power to stop you."

"Of, course I know that," Voldemort screamed. "I know what your son is capable of."

"It seems that you haven't heard all of the prophecy, yet." Balefor smiled and stood up. "As much as my son is capable of doing, it is the Potter boy you will wish to watch out for. His destiny is far greater then my son's. In the end, the fight will come down to you or him. And I will make sure of this." His elongated fingers were tented in front of him as his feet glided across the floor to in front the Dark Lord. Long white hair was flowing down his back, but his eyes were remained hided by the shadows.

"What about Dumbledore and his precious Order?" Voldemort asked. "Can you be certain-" a hand was raised by Balefor, and Voldemort stopped.

"I know for a fact that my son will make sure that this prophecy will be fulfilled." Balefor smiled. "He is quite a sucker for prophecies."

Voldemort's mind was spinning at that thought, and thought of a plan quickly and smile came to his face. "You can leave if you wish or finish your dinner."

"I must say," Balefor turned back to the table he was just at. "That woman was rather declivous, are you sure there is none of her left?"

"You can check with the kitchens, but I ask that you do not eat anymore of my Death Eaters," Voldemort waved a hand, dismissing the Demon. "I'm afraid that they would complain to me about it. And certainly do not wish to deal with it." Voldemort sat back in his chair, and began to think about the little tidbit that Balefor had just given him. It could be severely useful in the up and coming weeks.

()()()()()()

The same figure who watched over Number Four, Privet Drive for the past two weeks was upset by this new revelation. _What was the half-breed doing with the boy?_ There was no reason for that man to get involved with his master's plans. He was a simple waste of space, no matter how much his master did like the man. _He isn't even proud of his heritage. The man had no sense of history._

The figure stared at the house for a moment. _But it doesn't really matter. The boy will die in soon in a few days, even with that stupid charm of his. _ He turned around and walked away, smiling his fanged smile at the thought of eating that much power from the boy. _Even a hand would give me more power_.


	5. Dark Thoughts and Opening Sins

Chapter 4: Dark Thoughts and Opening Sins  
  
By: The Dark Aeon, Chronos the Fallen  
  
Author's Note: Thanks to Audrey and Tiffany for betaing for me. It's been a big help.  
  
Marvel owns Doc. Strange and the X-men. Ms. Rowling owns Harry Potter and co. The rest is mine.  
  
()()()()()()  
  
Hermione woke up the next day with a dull headache. It was right about her right eye, and just ached. She got up and quickly placed her robe on, before heading to the bathroom. And as far as she could tell, there was nothing wrong about her, besides looking a bit disheveled from waking up. There were small circles under her eyes from all-nighters, studying for the O.W.L.S. or some other test, but they were barely noticeable. The cinnamon eyes stared at her. She wasn't beautiful, Hermione knew that, but when Ron said she was... oh, it brightened up her spirits. It had taken five years but he had finally noticed her as a girl. Hermione certainly smiled more often.  
  
But there were times when he could have cared less about it, when they fell back into their old routine. Just before she left yesterday, they got into a big fight, over the fact that she had to go. It was ridiculous. Ron wasn't even around the entire day, and yelled at Hermione for leaving when she had to. God, that boy made her so mad sometimes. Now, Harry, on the other hand. Hermione doubted that there was a time when she was actually mad at him. True, they argued sometimes and stopped speaking for a while, but she was never truly mad at him. Upset and disappointed at times, but never mad.  
  
Hermione finally decided that it was time for her to get ready for the day. Taking a quick look outside the bathroom, Hermione ran back to her room, grabbed some clothes to change into after her shower and ran back to the bathroom. Although she was wearing a robe, Hermione was never one for people seeing in her pajamas, even her parents. That one day when she knew that it was just her and Roland didn't seem to bother her too much though, for some reason. It was as if she was just more comfortable with him, not like she was with Harry. It was almost a safe feeling; that Roland wouldn't judge her.  
  
The shower went quickly, and Hermione put on what little make-up she had and knew how to use. Her mother finally decided to buy her some and teach her how to use it. Hermione decided that it maybe Ron would complement her on her new appearance. She blushed at that thought. I wonder what he would say about me. Hermione spun in front of the mirror. She wore a basic blouse, and blue jeans, nothing special. But she felt different. Again, she thought of Harry and his opinion. "I wonder what Harry would say about me?" she asked herself.  
  
"He'd say you were a scarlet woman who took too long in the bathroom," Roland's voice came through the door, and Hermione blushed even redder. "Now get out of there if you are done, so I can use it for the day."  
  
"Okay, just give me a few more minutes," she replied, and heard Roland's breath of exasperation.  
  
"Fine, just hurry up." Roland's footsteps marked him walking away from the bathroom. "You have five minutes." Hermione giggled before rushing to get her make-up put away under the counter. She quickly picked up her clothes, towel and robe when she heard Roland counting. "Five...Four...Three...Two..." Hermione opened the door and smiled at Roland.  
  
"All yours," Roland smirked and Hermione stuck out her tongue. He was wearing just a pair of black workout pants. As he entered, Roland messed up her bushy head of hair, and walked inside. Hermione scowled at him as he closed the door. "You're welcome."  
  
"And you're not," Roland replied. Hermione laughed as she went to put her pajamas back in her room. Her cousin was so laid back, even more then Ron and Harry. He just flowed with the times, but there was so much that she wanted to know, like why was so he old and still learning to be wizard; what was his life like after the crash that killed his parents? Roland was an enigma to her, and that, Hermione didn't like. No, she didn't like that at all, and there was nothing that a book would tell her about it.  
  
Hermione didn't even hear the shower turn on, but she did notice when it was shut off. She looked over at her clock, and noticed that Roland had been in the bathroom for twenty minutes. That meant that she was sitting there wasting the day. Quickly Hermione grabbed one of the books that Roland had allowed her read and rushed downstairs. As she ran, she heard Roland yell through the bathroom door, "don't eat anything, I'm making breakfast." Hermione sighed; she was hungry, but decided to wait for whatever Roland was going to cook. From the lunches that he had made for her, Hermione knew that he was a halfway decent cook.  
  
Sitting down on her favorite chair, Hermione opened up the book and began to read. It discussed the Elements and their obvious effects on life. Of the most common elements, Earth and Air have almost been known to wed and become one. Their chemistry together is often seen as soul mates. Though they can marry outside of this combination, it is rare for that to happen. Earth and Air find that having that distinction of their elements makes the worlds a difference. Pausing just for a moment, Hermione wondered what element she was. Yesterday, she briefly skimmed the book on Elements, but found this one to be more interesting. Now, she might actually have to fully read the other one. It was just that the text was so long and dull, and took forever to get to the point. Not knowing her element was beginning to annoy her, especially when there seemed to be a lot related to them.  
  
Broken footsteps came down the stairs, and Hermione knew that Roland was having an off day with his knee. He was limping already and it wasn't even ten. "Bad day?" she asked without looking up from her book.  
  
"All that walking took a lot out of me," he said walking up behind Hermione. "Whatcha reading?"  
  
"One of your stupid books," she replied, and looked up at Roland glaring at her. Hermione returned the glare before smiling, and sticking out her tongue at him. Roland laughed and messed up her hair some more. "Don't do that, okay?" he was wearing his normal black outfit  
  
"You're never going to get it to do anything, you know that," Roland walked into the kitchen. "You inherited the Granger's Curse."  
  
"And what is that?" Hermione twisted around to glare at her cousin  
  
"All the Granger women have extremely wild hair, whether it is bushy, curly or just won't cooperate, it's just that way. My mom explained it too me," Roland had disappeared into the kitchen. "I found it rather funny."  
  
"I remember my mum explaining something like that," Hermione replied, "but she didn't call it the Granger's Curse." She looked back at the book.  
  
"I'm making French toast for breakfast," Roland yelled from the kitchen. "Along with bacon and some fruit." Hermione ignored him for the moment and continued to read. This bond has enabled the Earth and Air elements to have extraordinary abilities comparable only to the Shadow element. Each can use the abilities of their mate as if they were their own. For example, an Earth element can not fly, no matter how hard they try. But if they are in love with an Air element, consciously or sub-consciously, then fly as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Another example is that Air elements are often frightened easily and fall to others without a second thought. However, if they have found their mate, whether they know it or not, then they are the most stubborn person you would know. That was certainly odd. The way Hermione understood it; the Earth or Air elements didn't even have to know that they were in love in order for the abilities to take affect.  
  
"Well, I really need to read that other book," Hermione finally decided. Now she was really curious about what Element she was. A bell came from nowhere, and Hermione looked around. Where did that sound come from? She looked over at the kitchen table and saw that it was set. Roland had finished cooking and set an elegant breakfast table. Her jaw dropped at the sight of it. A beautiful flower arrangement was the center piece. There were two champagne glasses, filled with orange juice. And the smell, oh, Hermione nearly died when she caught the smell.  
  
"Well, come in and eat," Roland said. He was placing a final plate of something on the table and then sat down in one of the chairs. "The food isn't getting any better, Hermione." She immediately got out of her chair and rushed over to the table, book in hand. Hermione paused at the slight of the food. Fresh fruit was cut and placed in little decorative bowls in front of the two plates that held little origami doves made out of their napkins. The French toast was stacked in alternating patterns on another plate, with a little gravy bowl for the maple syrup. The fact that he had accomplished the breakfast so quickly was amazing. She took her seat and grabbed a few of the French toast. "Hey, leave some for the rest of me."  
  
Hermione didn't even notice the fact that she took about five pieces of the toast. But when she looked over at Roland's plate, she noticed that it was already covered in syrup and he was shoving a final piece of what looked like three pieces into his mouth. "And I thought Ron was the Human disposable." Roland looked up with a confused look on his face and Hermione just laughed.  
  
"I don't commit gluttony, Hermione," Roland said, "I use the food." He grabbed three more and began to skillfully cut them.  
  
"Sure," she replied, and got back to eating her own food. They ate in silence with Hermione reading her book and left Roland to his own thoughts. She got through almost half the book when it finally began to talk about the Light and Shadow elements. The two most opposing elements in the world, Light and Shadow, are often viewed as good and evil, right and wrong, order and chaos. But this has been proven wrong. Throughout history, there has never been a single Shadow element who was evil. An interesting theory as to why almost all of the Shadow elements fought for the Lord came about during the Great War of 14790 A.C. This war brought about the most death amongst the wizarding world, and more so the muggle world. But it was a Shadow element that was born of the enemy that saved the lives of many, and ultimately ended the war with his own life. This brought forth the theory that all Shadow elements are ultimately good, for it is through their darkness that the light of hope can be shown.  
  
I can't believe that, Hermione thought. how can someone get something so backwards? The shadow elements can't be good, it defies everything that we are ever taught. A being of darkness can not be good. This was finally the topic that broke the silence. "Roland, this can't be right," Hermione said, and looked up at her cousin.  
  
"Really, how so?" he replied. Roland stood up and limped over to her.  
  
"It says that a Shadow element is good," Hermione looked up at Roland, "how can that be? Darkness is always told as evil, and-"  
  
"Easy there, Hermione," Roland replied, "Don't get confused. And you are right by the way," Hermione beamed with pride. "About evil being darkness" she frowned. "But a shadow is something different. And science most recently has proven that."  
  
"Ooh, I remember an article on that." Hermione sat back in her chair. "It talked about the scientific breakthrough on proving an opposite to the proton, and virtually proving antimatter's existence. They called the particle Aeonosium. If I remember correctly, it was found by a Doctor Dem..." Hermione trailed off and looked at Roland. "It was you, wasn't?" he smiled and looked away. "It was, oh, this is so exciting." Hermione got in her information mode and looked like she wasn't going to stop. She began to ask questions about how he found, what tests he ran and only stopped because Roland put a hand up.  
  
"Can we get back to the subject that you ask for by the way," Roland asked, and Hermione nodded. Again, he didn't want to talk about it. But Hermione would get this information from him. She glared at him and hoped that he got her look. "Not now, at least." Good, he did. "But you are right, that particle is the opposite of light, in every way imaginable. This particle makes up a shadow. We've yet to figure out what happens when light passes through an object to cause that to happen, but we do know that we get Aeonosium. Now we know that all of the elements, magical ones, are realistic concepts?" Hermione nodded. "Good that means we can manipulate them, right?" again a nod. "By now you're probably wondering what this has to do with Shadow elements being relatively good." The truth was that Hermione wasn't, she was too caught up the fact that Roland had found something so amazing, but she wasn't going to admit that Roland.  
  
"What is chaos?" Roland asked.  
  
"Anarchy, pure civil disorder," Hermione started.  
  
"Disorder was the word that I was looking for. Now, what is light?"  
  
"Light is the combination of different colors acting in a..." Hermione slow down, and a smile came to her face. She had found out why Shadow elements were most good and order like. If Aeonosium was the opposite of a proton, then it would act in an orderly way, unlike the proton. And if order was the representative of good then that would mean- "Roland, that's brilliant." Hermione replied. Her smiled had disappeared as she thought. "Light is seen as chaotic and then Shadow, as it's opposite, is orderly, and through for good." She smiled again. "And it makes perfect sense too. How did the people back then get so advanced?"  
  
Roland gave Hermione a look like she was off on something, but didn't say anything. "Well, their ways weren't really proved by science, rather by faith. They believed that there were multiple gods who watched over them and protected them from the ultimate evil." Roland shrugged. "They just happened to get it right." He picked up her plate. "Now, you can help me with dishes then finish that book, there is a lot of useful information in it. After that, I should be done with what business I need to do and we can discuss it if you want." Roland grabbed a few other things and balanced then on his arms with the grace of a waiter. Hermione was about to ask if she should just do it, but knew that Roland was more than capable to do it, even if he was blind. She had seen him walk around the house with ease the moment he arrived. Hermione was guessing that it had something to do with magic, but didn't really know what. That was just another question to add to her list.  
  
()()()()()()  
  
When Harry woke up in the morning, he felt immense headache throbbing around his scar. When he reached up and felt it, there was some sort of liquid covered his scar. Pulling his hand away, Harry found that it was blood. He looked around and found that his pillow was covered in it. He nearly screamed in terror but held back and took a few deep breathes. Harry went through a mental check list. He knew that he hadn't gone through his plan yet, and that he didn't feel any pain from Voldemort the night before, he would have woken up. No, something else had happened, he just wish he knew what did happen.  
  
But Harry did know that Uncle Vernon was going to kill him for making this mess. It was bad enough that Harry wasn't doing work around the house, but now that blood had soaked the sheet, Harry just knew that his uncle was going to kill him. He really needed to talk to Remus. Hopefully Hedwig had gotten his letter to his old professor and was on her way back. And that Uncle Vernon remembered what Moody, Tonks, Remus and Kingdley had warned and would obey their command. Then Harry wouldn't have to be beaten anymore. He shook at that thought. When Uncle Vernon was on one of his sprees, it was the only time when Harry feared the man. Despite the fact that most of it looked like fat, Harry learned the hard way that it was more muscle then fat. He rubbed his left shoulder from where Uncle Vernon last hit him. The pain was still there.  
  
Harry got up and looked over at his wand. With a simple swish and flick the mess would be gone, and there would be no trouble. But Harry had not wished to be expelled with only two years left in his schooling career. No, he would just have to bear the wrath of his uncle. That was another thing to add to list. Unbeknownst to Roland, or maybe known, Harry had been making a list of all the reason why or why not to follow through with his original plan. Despite Roland's short intervention, it hadn't helped much. At least Harry knew what was bothering, but he was in no mood to try to fix them. He knew that some problems would never be fixed. Like no one will love me.  
  
Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, Harry looked down at the blood stained shirt he was now sporting. He sighed; it was one of his old shirts lucky, so that meant none of his new cloths were ruined. Harry felt that he wasn't even going to wear them until he got out of the house. The less that the Dursleys knew he had, the better. Hell, if they didn't even know that he was alive, that would have been the greatest thing in the world. But no. Dumbledore and his stupid protection spells forced him to stay at this damned house and be tortured by the inhabitants. There another thing to add to the ever growing list that he had created.  
  
He sighed as he took off his shirt. There was so much to think about, like Hermione and Ron, Sirius, Voldemort, and mutants. His mind paused at that last part. The whole world knew about them, which meant the Dursleys knew, too. Bloody Hell. Harry sat down even more depressed on his bed. If they had even a sense of intelligence in their minds than they could pull of that scam. A wizard is no more than a mutant who has grown through a race. They had abnormal abilities, and the Dursleys certainly didn't like anything abnormal. They could use wizardry as an excuse to hurt him even more. The fear of his uncle returned, and Harry didn't even know if he should tell them. Bloody hell, he thought one final time. There was something else to add to the bloody list. That bloody thing was just getting longer and longer.  
  
The side that told him not to go through with the plan was rather short, but had more realistic ideas on it. Like the fact that he needed to kill Voldemort, as he was the only one who had the power. It was rather ironic that the boy that Voldemort was so much like was the one who would destroy him. That bloody prophecy had foretold the destruction of either Voldemort or Harry. Oh, bloody hell. That was the only reason holding Harry back from the knife right now. He had duty to finish. His only hope was that it would end with Voldemort and Harry's death. If not, then it would end shortly after that day.  
  
Another thing that was on that list, surprisingly enough, was Hermione and Ron. They were his best friends in the world, even if they were now a couple. Harry knew how disappointed they would be if he did follow through with it, especially Hermione. She was always so logical and Harry doubted she could even understand what was happening to him now; what he was feeling. But he wasn't even going to tell anyone, not even Roland. There was just something about that man. As much as he wanted to trust him, Harry couldn't. There was this aura about him almost like Dumbledore, but it seemed to mask this other one, one that reminded Harry of Voldemort. Harry couldn't explain it, but it was there, and that was what scared him. His eyes were what scared him, not the mutant powers, but the ability to mask what ever he was hiding. He created a simple illusion without a word. So what else was that man hiding?  
  
Harry questioned many things in his life, but the main one was whether or not he was ever going to find love in the world. He was a constant target for Voldemort, and so would whoever he loved. Harry could not put someone through that. No, his best bet was to distant himself from all those he cared about, just so he could get this over with as soon as possible. That way no one would get hurt because of someone who was after him. He and he alone should suffer.  
  
"Boy," Uncle Vernon yelled from down stair. Harry sighed. What now? He just changed his shirt and pants and walked down stair to see what the problem was. "We're in the living room." He sighed again, and walked solemnly to the living room.  
  
In there was Professor Lupin and Tonks. They were talking rather animatedly with Aunt Petunia about something, and she was actually laughing. And it wasn't one of her forced laughs that his aunt used with Uncle Vernon's clients. But here it was an actual laugh. That surprised Harry; he had never seen his aunt happy around wizards, let along laughing. Something was certainly not right.  
  
"Ah," Tonks said smiling, but that smile quickly disappeared when she looked at him. "What happened to you?" Bloody hell. Harry had forgotten about the dried blood on his forehead. He had to think of something quickly.  
  
"Oh, nothing," he replied, "just a small cut."  
  
"A small cut, huh?" Lupin got up and walked over to Harry. "It is around your entire scar Harry. Did something happen last night?"  
  
"Not that I know of," Harry said, but only got looks from both of them. "Honestly, I didn't feel a thing. It was just when I woke up this morning; my entire bed was covered in blood."  
  
"What?" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "How dare that-"  
  
"Oh, relax dear," Aunt Petunia said, "it's not a big deal, we can just clean it later." She turned to her husband. "Why don't we get out shopping done for the day, okay sweetheart?" She wrapped an arm around Uncle Vernon's and walked out the room. "I have a few things that I want to get done." Harry looked at then walking out, and then back at Tonks and Lupin. Both of them were smiling.  
  
"What are you two smiling about?" he asked.  
  
"It's a amazing what a simple calming charm can do," Tonks said, she was smiling about the fact.  
  
"I still can't believe that I agreed to that." Lupin shook his head and took a seat. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Tonks here casted a calming spell on Aunt Petunia and she was nice to us ever since." Harry couldn't help but smile. "Now, go get cleaned up you, and then Tonks here will take a look at that wound."  
  
Harry laughed as he washed. He liked Lupin and Tonks; they always tried to make him feel comfortable and safe. Harry would hate leaving them. He came back with a frown, but neither of them asked why. "Now, Harry," Tonks said, "let me see your scar." Harry sighed. "Don't you give me that tone, mister." Her face quickly changed to one that looked like Aunt Petunia. Lupin held back a laugh and a smile crossed Harry's face. "Now come here." Harry was hesitant, but walked over to Tonks. She and Lupin were sitting awfully close together on the couch, but Harry didn't mention it.  
  
"You're not going to turn into Mrs. Weasley, are you?" Harry asked.  
  
"What do you mean?" Tonks asked, her face changing into Mrs. Weasley's. This brought forth the laugh from Harry.  
  
"I mean, all mother-like," Harry replied. "I liked you when you just acted like I was one of the team, not some fragile child who needed to be pampered."  
  
Tonks laughed and her face changed back. "Okay," she said, "just as long as you know that there are people who will care for you if you ask for it." Harry nodded. "Now, how were your days with Roland?"  
  
Harry raised an eye brow. That was part of the reason why he had sent the letter. But now, Harry wasn't quite sure what he wanted to talk about. "I'm not sure," Harry replied, "I mean I had a good time, but there were some things..." he took a seat in Uncle Vernon's favorite chair.  
  
"You felt it too then, huh," Lupin said.  
  
"Remus said that as much as he trusts Roland, there is just something about him," Tonks quickly said. She shrugged. "I don't feel a thing. He's a real nice guy. But-"  
  
"Hah," Harry smirked, "I knew there was a 'but.'"  
  
"But," Tonks reiterated, "He's not my type. Too unstable." Harry gave Tonks a weird look, as if asking 'what do you mean?' "He was legally dead for ten minutes when he twelve, Harry."  
  
All Harry could say was, "Wow." That could be the reason as to why Roland was a mutant. The news was saying that it usually took a traumatic incident for the mutant gene to arise. But what would the definition of traumatic experience be? Didn't what Harry go through with Sirius' death traumatic enough? Then shouldn't he be a mutant?  
  
"What's wrong?" Lupin asked.  
  
"If the mutant gene is triggered by a traumatic event," Harry said, "Then shouldn't I be a mutant?" For a while there was silence, and that bothered Harry. So is that a yes, he wanted to ask, but didn't, rather he decided that they needed to think about their question.  
  
"It is possible, Harry," Tonks said, "Roland said-"  
  
"Why does everything now have to concern him," Harry shouted and stood up. He didn't even know why he did that, but his heart spoke true.  
  
"Because he is the first open mutant we have in the Order, Harry," Lupin finally replied. Harry turned to his friend, and pointed a finger. His old professor nodded. "Tonks, too." Harry mouthed the word, oh and took a seat.  
  
"Speaking for myself," Tonks said, "I didn't even know I was a mutant."  
  
"How is that possible?"  
  
"A Metamorphmagus ability," Tonks looked down at the ground, "that's the reason why it is so rare for a person's genes to be right in order for such a useful ability. At least that is what Professor X said." Harry raised an eyebrow. "He's the man who works with mutants in America. He is a belated wizard, almost a squib." He nodded, but didn't quite understand.  
  
"My ability has to do with the lycanthropy," Lupin said. "If it weren't for that, I would have complete control over the werewolf form." He shrugged.  
  
Harry didn't want to push the matter any further but he had to know. "Were my parents mutants, Professor?"  
  
Lupin laughed. "I'm not your professor right now," Right now what did that mean? "Just call me Remus."  
  
"Okay," Harry replied. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable with that but would try for the sake of his friend. "But you didn't answer my question?"  
  
Remus sighed. "Yeah, at least your Mum was. A telekinetic. It was rather funny to see her pick on James with that ability, even before they started to going out." The old tired man laughed and Harry couldn't help but smile at the thought of his parents. "That was when we all first met Professor Charles Xavier. He was the man who help Lily get her powers under control when she was younger and came to the school for Padfoot."  
  
"Sirius was a mutant?" Harry asked; he was amazed. Harry lived with the man for almost all of last summer and never even knew. "I can't believe that."  
  
"Well, it isn't hard," Tonks replied, "it wasn't until recently that mutant abilities have become more obvious."  
  
"Right," Remus added. "And with Sirius, his was just as hidden as Lily's. He was a telepath." That caused Harry's jaw to drop. "Don't be so surprised. That's why he was always so empathic around you, and partially why he escaped from Azkaban so easily. From what Sirius explained to me, you have to have a lot of control over the telepathy to prevent yourself from going insane. You have to close your mind to the world." Harry just nodded. He was taking in so much.  
  
"Don't act so surprise," Tonks said, "mutant abilities are common within the wizarding world. We just use magic to explain it instead of science."  
  
"So that's why a metamporhmagus is a mutant ability, right?" Harry asked. "So would that mean an Animagus is also a mutant ability?"  
  
"Sort of," Remus replied. "It's complicated."  
  
"Oh," Harry sat back in Uncle Vernon's chair and thought about it. If it was as complicated as that, then this wasn't really the time to talk about that. He decided to think about it some more. But now was the time for questions. "What's going on with Voldemort?" Neither cringed, but that didn't really surprise Harry. Tonks was an Auror, and Remus was, well, Remus. It was probably due to being in the Order.  
  
"Not much," Tonks said, "There has been an increase in missing Muggles, but I doubt that is due to Voldemort. Mostly he has been quiet, which is bothering me."  
  
"And the Ministry?"  
  
Remus took this question. "With the amount of owls and the incident at the Ministry, Fudge has finally agreed to the rebirth of Voldemort. Aurors now comb Diagon Alley as well as any other highly populated wizarding area, save the schools."  
  
"The Educational Decrees," Harry asked with high hopes. With Voldemort back, that could possibly mean a competent DADA teacher. And that he could play Quidditch again.  
  
"All been repealed." This finally brought a smile to Harry's face. He could play Quidditch again. Now, all he wondered was- "you're Firebolt is safely in the hands of Professor McGonagall." Good, it was one of the few things he had left from Sirius. "I doubted even she would destroy such a great broom."  
  
For the next hour, they talked about the news in the wizarding world and the Order. He had gotten them to agree to at least think about tutoring him in preparation for the final battle. Harry wanted to be ready for anything, and what a better place to start then from then from an Auror and, well, Remus. Harry had more faith in him then he did the rest of the Order. Remus was the last thing that was a part of Harry's old family, and the Boy-Who-lived treasured that. Add that to the list, Harry doubted that Remus could survive another loss like he did with Sirius. He was the last of the Marauders and that was saying something given his disease.  
  
The clock bellowed three and Harry realized that they had talked away the afternoon. And his relatives weren't even back from wherever they went to. "Oh my gosh," Tonks said. She looked over to the clock. Harry smirked at her words. "We better get going. It's getting late." The Auror stood up quickly, and Remus followed. "You take care of yourself, Harry." Harry nodded his response. "We'll check on you in a few days, alright." They quickly apparated out of the house, probably back to the Order Headquarters. The day went by so quickly that Harry didn't even have to think about much of his plan. He was happy, right? But, he would probably never find love. His best friends have found it, but it would never find Harry. After his little incident with Cho, Harry doubted that he wanted to date anyone else. It was just too much stress to deal with besides the prophecy. Harry was already having a hard time dealing with it, and he didn't need anymore.  
  
Sighing, Harry decided that his best bet was to get as much done as possible in the house, like food or something. He went up stairs and cleaned up the mess that had occurred some time during the night. While the sheets were in the washer, Harry made himself some lunch and probably dinner too. Uncle Vernon was going to be upset because Wizards were in his house. This gave Harry a lot of time to think about what Remus and Tonks. There was something different about them today, from the last time he had seen them, and there was this bounce in Tonks' step, different then her normal one. And Remus, he was different then the man that Harry had seen the last time. There was this twinkle in his eye that wasn't there before, and just something else. Could it be love? Harry noticed how they were sitting awfully close and shooting glances towards each other. They also began to finish each other's sentences. That must be it, then. They were in love. Harry wondered if they knew about that. Probably didn't, all they were really doing was being friends with one another.  
  
After pulling out his sheets from the dryer, Harry replaced them on his bed. What is love? Harry asked himself. Is love the will to die for someone else? In three cases now, three people have given their lives in order for Harry to live. And as far as Harry knew was that these people loved him. But about real love? Soul mates and all that bloody junk? He didn't know. His parents were in love from everything that he knew. But what defined it? What Ron and Hermione have, is that love? Harry doubted that. Despite what everything he heard about opposites attracting, Ron and Hermione were too different for anything real to happen. At least Harry hoped.  
  
But did they love him? That was what bothered Harry the most. This action that they both did was something that was going to take a long time to heal. It didn't matter that they were going out, Harry could have cared less. He felt a slight burn in his heart but tossed it up to heart burn, and thought nothing else of it. No, his mind went back, the fact that they didn't think that they could tell me about it was what hurt the most. Harry's anger grew and he felt that he had to lie down just to get it gone. Focusing in on a happy thought, the anger slowly subsided. But Harry didn't want to move, or even think about more. He just wanted it to be over. He just wanted to finally rest.  
  
()()()()()()  
  
"Alright Hermione," Roland said, "If you are so interested in finding out what element you are, there are a few things I can do." She nearly hopped out of her seat in excitement. They had spent the entire afternoon going over questions that Hermione had. It got the point that Roland was getting frustrated with her not knowing what element she was. He said that he would rather not explain it, just read the book. But Hermione wanted to know as soon as possible. "Can you get me a pen and a large pad of paper?" Hermione got up eagerly and rushed in the kitchen.  
  
From what Roland had told her she had a vague idea of what elements she could possibly be. It was a toss up between Earth, Water, and Air. Each of those had intelligence as playing an important role in the element, no matter how small in Earth's case. And since Hermione was the smartest girl at Hogwarts, those were the only logical choices. Fire was too violent, Light was too calm, and Hermione was certainly neither. There was a slight possibly that she meant have been a Shadow element, but Roland had told her that the chances of a Shadow element being born in even a thousand years was somewhere around the actual value of pi raised to the -1, so that quickly took the Shadow element out of the mix.  
  
Hermione came running back in with what Roland had asked for. She took a seat next to him before handing him the paper. Roland stared at her for a moment before drawing something on the paper. "I doubt you would understand what I am going to do," he said, making Hermione frown. Why would he think that she wouldn't even understand? She was smart, after all. There was a chance that she could get it pretty quickly. "But even if you don't I don't want you rigging this for a certain element." Roland pointed across to the other chair. "Sit there and we can begin." Hermione stared at Roland. How dare he, she thought as she got up, that I would even dream of cheating, even on something as trivial as this stupid test. She at least got a small look at the drawing Roland had made. It was a circle with symbol in the center. And on the outside of the circle were six smaller ones. Hermione took a seat across from Roland, and crossed her arms.  
  
"Thank you," he said, and looked up at Hermione. "Now I'm going to ask you twelve questions dealing with twelve different occasions, maybe more. I don't want you to analyze the questions or think too much." He smiled at his cousin. "I'm not saying you can't think about it. Just answer what is the first thing that comes to your mind. You can't get it wrong or right. These are just a guideline that is used for finding out what element you are."  
  
"Fine," Hermione said, her anger was gone, and now she was anxious to know what element she was. I hope that it's Water. From what Roland had told her, it sound as if it was the coolest element of them all.  
  
"Are you ready?" Roland asked.  
  
"Yes, yes," Hermione replied, "can we begin?"  
  
"Yes," Roland said, "and here is your first question: a child is in the middle of the street, wearing dirty clothes and crying from hunger pains. You wish to help the child yet have no food or money on you. You do not know this child nor, does he know you, yet you have this feeling to help him. What do you do?"  
  
"That's it?" Hermione asked. She was rather surprised at the simplicity of the question. Roland nodded. "I'd help him."  
  
"But how," Roland replied, "and explain thoroughly." Hermione sat there for a moment, thinking about it. She would help the child, but how. The first thing that she thought of was to go get him food.  
  
"I would go get him food and bring it back for him." Her words had a sense of finality to them, and a smile crossed her face.  
  
"Okay," Roland wrote something down, but Hermione didn't see what. "Next question-"  
  
"Wait, you aren't even going to tell me that I was correct?" Hermione asked. Roland stared oddly at her, and it made her feel uncomfortable. "What?"  
  
"I said that there is no right or wrong answer. What you do is your choice and you have to live with. It is right or wrong by your standards and no one else's."  
  
Hermione calmed down a bit, and Roland's glare lessoned. "And what would you do?"  
  
"I would take the child home with, wash him, cloth him and give him money and directions to the nearest shelter." Hermione looked like she was about to object, but Roland held up a hand and stopped her. "I said there was no right or wrong, just morals and what you believe in. Next Question: ever since you have moved into your new apartment..."  
  
And so it went on like that. It seemed like hours that they sat at the table. But Hermione knew better. She had been watching the clock, waiting her best for the answer to her original question: which element she was. Most of what Roland had asked her was based off of either a moral or logical choice. Sometimes he gave her choices if it was a very difficult choice, from either side. Some of the other questions were about her habits, like studying and having fun. It didn't really get too personal, but just enough for her cousin to get a glimpse of her life. Often after the question, Hermione would ask why he chose what he did. It gave her some insight into her cousin's mind.  
  
Finally they had at last come to the last question. Roland sighed, and muttered something. It sounded like he hated asking this question. "Final question, Hermione. This is your last one and I will not help you on this. And unlike the others, you would see the effects of this right away. And unlike the others, I will give you a reply to your answer, just to show how your actions would have affected the outcome." Roland paused. "I just wished I didn't have to ask this question."  
  
"Continue," Hermione said, but her voice was soft. She was touched by Roland's expressions; he was visibly worried about something and felt terrible about the next question.  
  
"Okay," Roland said stretching. When he finally stopped, he spoke in a monotone voice. "Final Question: you have been captured by an enemy along with your two best friends." Hermione didn't like were this was going. "One of you has been sentenced to death. But with a sadistic twist." No, Hermione certainly didn't like this question. It reminded Hermione too much of her friends. She could just see Harry and Ron standing next to her, waiting to die in front of Voldemort. "You have been told to choose, which one of your friend would die. The other and you would get to live." Hermione gasped. No, it can't be, she thought, that was just what Voldemort would do. "I'm sorry Hermione, but I must ask this: Choose."  
  
"No," She said, shaking her head, "I won't. You can't make me." She wanted to back away, but was unable to move for some odd reason. "Hermione," Roland said with the utmost importance. "You must choose or all three of you will die in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. You must choose, for the sake of your friends."  
  
"No," she whispered. Roland's words had opened a hole in Hermione's mind that she hoped would never be opened. The lives of her friends rested on her shoulders. "I can't."  
  
"Choose!" Roland yelled. Hermione nearly fell out of her chair. His voice was so different. It wasn't anything like she had heard before. It was dark and deep; even when Roland yelled at before, it wasn't like this. This was... crueler. "If you wish to finish this, then choose. If not, all three." She was scared of her cousin; he had never acted like this before. "Choose!"  
  
"Please," Hermione was visible shaking from the question. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. "Please, don't-" but Roland didn't allow her to finish.  
  
"Then all three are sentenced-"  
  
"No," Hermione said, her logic had finally kicked in. "it's...it's..."  
  
"Who, Hermione?" Roland asked. "Who is it?" his voice echoed through the house and shook most of the china.  
  
"It's Harry," she finally said and broke out into large sobs. "It's Harry." Roland quickly crossed the room before Hermione did fall out of her chair and on to the floor, catching his cousin. He held her close to his chest and rocked back and forth on the rock, soothing her. She had chosen Harry over her boyfriend. Did that mean that she didn't love Ron? The sobs continued and Roland stroked her hair softly, humming lightly. No, of course not, she loved Ron, didn't she? No, she had chosen Harry because...because... Hermione couldn't think straight, the question was just too much. She whimpered softly. For the longest time, Roland held his cousin, trying to calm her down. But she just wanted to be with...Harry. Hermione had no idea way, but she just wanted to in his arms and have him hold her tightly, telling her that she would be okay, that everything would be fine, that they would be safe.  
  
Roland finally said. "Your mortal enemy murdered your other friend in front of your eyes, and banished you out right." His voice was a whisper, almost nothing, and this brought even more sobs from Hermione. They sat there like that, Roland trying to calm her down.  
  
After what seemed like forever, Roland finally spoke up again. "When I was first asked this question, I didn't handle it as well." His voice was stranded and tired. "I think I destroyed a room. I was so upset at the mere thought."  
  
Hermione sniffled. "What-what did you choose?" she didn't know if she wanted to know the answer to this  
  
There was a long silence. "Me." Hermione pulled away and looked into her cousin's sunglasses. "I don't deserve a life, Hermione. Not after the things I have done." Silence followed, and Hermione watched as a single tear rolled down his face. "I don't deserve to live," he whispered so softly that Hermione wasn't even sure if he said anything if she didn't see his mouth move. She knew better then to ask why. It would only upset him further and probably her. Hermione could only think about was Harry, and all the hard choices that he had had to make during the time she had known him. So much depended on Harry, and she finally knew what it meant to make decision like that.  
  
()()()()()()  
  
When Hermione's parents came home they found Hermione on the couch, asleep from the crying and the sobbing. Roland was gone; no note other then what he had written down on his paper. "The Air" was the only legible word that the Grangers could read, for the rest was in a forgotten language unknown to almost all of the word. It was almost a dead language, thanks to the actions of the Americans. For the language was Cherokee.  
  
Mrs. Granger walked over to her daughter only see that she was holding onto a picture of her and her two best friends. She thought that Hermione missed her boyfriend and other friend, but a feeling told her otherwise. She whispered Harry's name, and how he was in danger. As her husband came into the living room, Mrs. Granger stroked her daughter's forehead softly. She just wished that she could help with what her daughter was going through. Over the past few years, Mrs. Granger had noticed a serious change in her daughter. She was constantly worried about one of her friends, Harry Potter. There were nights when Hermione wouldn't stop talking about him. Mrs. Granger really thought that Hermione would ask out that boy from the way she talked about him. But with this Ronald Weasley, all Mrs. Granger heard about was how he was an insufferable prat who didn't even listen to her daughter. That was what surprised her the most. She had heard how Hermione and Ron would get into awful fights and not speak for days, even weeks. Mrs. Granger just hoped that her daughter didn't get hurt with this relation.  
  
Mr. Granger picked up his daughter, and took her upstairs, leaving his wife to her thought. She looked back at the table and the paper that was written in Roland's handwriting. There were a few books spread out on the floor in the living room. She picked them up and read the titles: Elemental Theories and Uses, The Elements Across the Ages, The Affects the Elements had on Life and Religion. The book just went on and on about that. She flipped through it and read on passage and was shocked at of the things in the books. It wasn't graphic or anything like that, but rather it discussed the entire world through these elements and how it was doomed to fall. Certainly odd, she thought. These books also talked about angels and demons.  
  
What is Roland teaching Hermione? If it had anything to do with his job, then she would not allow it. Hermione had too much to deal with already. No, she would not be brought into that world which Roland hides so well. "She most certainly will not," Mrs. Granger said.  
  
"But what if she is already?" Roland had appeared in the corner, shocking his aunt. "You are as well, and I'm doing my best to keep you out of it. But one of these days you will get into it, and you will never be able to leave."  
  
"What do you mean?" She took a seat on one of the empty chairs.  
  
"Well, Aunt Mary," Roland didn't move, rather he stayed in the shadows, "have you ever felt something, something that you know was going to happen. And that something come true?" She sat there for a moment, thinking about all the times that she felt horrible during the year, only to learn how Hermione was hurt somehow or something bad had happened. It was like when her sister died, Mrs. Granger just knew.  
  
"Yes," she replied, "a few times." Roland moved away from the window, and over behind his aunt. The rustling of his cloak was heard just before he spoke. She turned to face her nephew.  
  
"A belated Seer," he said with a chuckle. "I'm not surprised. How long has these feelings occurred, say, since the death of my mother?" He's right; it was during that time that she would get these awful headaches, Mrs. Granger thought. But that was just due to stress.  
  
"How, how did you know?" she asked.  
  
Roland moved again, but she didn't know where. The same sound of a rustling cloth echoed in her ears. "Because there is celestial blood running through your veins, Aunt Mary. And as you are now an only child, that blood has been activated. The same blood that runs through Hermione's veins." Mrs. Granger was shocked, how could this be? They were normal, with nothing wrong about them.  
  
"What about you?" She quickly asked, trying to change the subject. "Aren't you an only child?"  
  
"That blood was destroyed by my...my," Roland tried to say it, but couldn't. "Him, so no I'm not."  
  
"Are you positive?" She asked.  
  
"As much as I am about the other boy, yes," Roland said, he moved again. His cloak or something moved slightly for she heard it. "I doubt that it means something other then you just having to learn how to control what you have."  
  
"And what of Hermione?"  
  
"Hogwarts," Roland replied, "There Dumbledore can help her if she needs it, which I doubt." Roland moved across the room. Mrs. Granger had given up trying to keep track of him. "But she, they, you will now be in danger. If this gets out then your lives could get lost. And I'm not sure if I can handle a full attack by myself."  
  
"What do I do?" She asked, but got no reply. Her nephew was gone. That left the choice up to Mrs. Granger. This was one choice that she would need to talk her husband about. "Joe," she called out softly.  
  
"I heard it all." He came down the stairs and sat down next to his wife. "Did you even-"  
  
"Know? No, I didn't," Mrs. Granger said. "Roland just told me the first of it." That would explain the headache had started was getting a few hours ago.  
  
"So what about your headache?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know." But I don't want to take that chance. "Joe," she said, "I think we need to change it."  
  
He sighed. "If you truly believe that it is for the best, then we will, tomorrow even." He wrapped an arm about his wife.  
  
"Thank you," she replied, and relaxed. Both were silent, trying not to think of the worst, and only the best. 


	6. Peace of Friends

Chapter 5

By: The Dark Aeon:

Author's Note: first off, I would like to thank my betas, Audrey, Tiffany and Broken Angel. They've been a big help in my story.

Second off, please review. I would like to hear you comment on what you like, what you didn't like, what was good, what was bad.

Third, half this ain't mine. Harry Potter is J.K. Rowling and the X-men and Doctor Strange is Marvel's.

Please enjoy.

()()()()()()

Hermione woke up late the next day, exhausted from the mental drilling that Roland did. Some bird was pecking at her window, and that was the only thing that woke her up. Hoping that it was Harry finally replying to her letters, Hermione was disappointed when she saw that it was Pig, Ron's owl. She quickly got out of her bed and opened the window, only to dodge the flying feather-ball that came into the room. Pig flew around the room for a few times, before she finally caught the small animal. She poured Pig some water before sitting down on her bed to read the letter.

_Hermione,_

_I can't stop thinking about you. Your hair is so beautiful and your eyes… I could get lost in them. Your mere presence sends my heart into such a flutter that I can't move without a thought of you and your beauty. I see you and your smile and my minds crashes, and I can't think straight. Your sweet soft kisses simply drive me wild. There isn't a single thing that I don't love about you. Especially that thing you did… it just sends shivers down my spine thinking about it. _

_I am writing to invite you over to the Burrow until the end of the summer. I miss you so much. Please say yes._

_Love with all my heart and soul,_

_Ron. _

Hermione couldn't help but smile at Ron's sweet words. She had never heard anything from anyone before. The tears were just flowing down her face. Hermione really hoped to go, but that would probably mean she would miss Harry's birthday, and the rest of the time that her cousin was going to be here. She wiped the tears off her face, and grabbed her robe before running down the stairs with the letter. Hermione heard her parents talking with Roland about something.

"Look, I'll sign all right," Roland said. Hermione paused at the bottom of the stairs, trying to catch their conversation. "But I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening, no matter what you may think." She turned the corner and looked at her cousin leaning over signing the paper.

"That's all we can ask for," her mom replied. "We just want to know that everything would be taken care of."

"What's taken care of?" Hermione said, stepping into their business. Her curiosity got the better of her. Roland was dressed already, as were both of her parents. She was wondering what time it was, but didn't get a chance to ask.

Without missing a beat, Roland said, "Stock portfolio, Herms." She placed her hips at his little nickname for her. "They just wanted to make sure that everything was in order. I was just signing some final paperwork for them, as I helped arrange them for your parents. That's all." Roland was quick in picking up the documents before Hermione even got a chance to read them. "Here you go." He handed them to her mother, who took it with care.

"Thank you, Roland," her mom said, and sent him a sympathetic look.

"I will stop it alright," he replied, before nearly jumping over to the stairs. Roland paused next to Hermione, as she quickly tried to hide the letter that Ron sent. "Oh, what is this?" he grabbed the letter and began to read it.

"Give it back Roland," Hermione tried to grab it, but her cousin held it up in the air.

"A love letter, I see." He held it up at the light. "'I_ can't stop thinking about you. Your hair is so beautiful and your eyes… I could get lost in them._" His voice was high and singsong like. "_Your mere presence sends my heart into such a flutter that I can't move without a thought of you and your beauty._'" Roland paused, and dropped his jaw. "'_Especially that thing you did… it just sends shivers down my spine thinking about it.' _And what is this thing that you did?" Hermione glared at her cousin, remembering why she hated him at times. He could be such a prat when he wanted. All the color went from her face when Roland said those words. Hermione knew that her parents would over react.

"Hermione Anne Granger," her mom said. "We need to have a talk now."

"It wasn't anything," Hermione replied, her face turning bright red. "I just gave him a back rub." Now her father was glaring at her, too. "Really, we didn't do anything more then kiss once or twice, and I gave him a back rub." Her mom looked over at Roland who just nodded. Why didn't they trust her? She was the top student at her school and had lived at a border school with boys for five years now. Hermione could handle things on her own.

"I would like to meet this boy," her dad said.

"But why, I told you already, he's sweet, lovely, kindly-" Hermione started to say.

"And that's your word on it, Herms," Roland said, and she glared at him. He stuck out his tongue at her. _Roland can be such a prat at times,_ Hermione thought. He was already looking at the letter again. "Says here that he wants her to stay at the Burrow, whatever that is, for the rest of the summer."

"I don't like the sound of that," her mom said, "Besides your cousin is only staying here for another week or so."

"But mum," Hermione pleaded, "I really want to go. I'm sure Roland won't mind." She glared at him, and he just shrugged. "He can find ways to keep himself occupied."

"I would like to meet this Ron fellow," Roland said, still looking at the letter. He rubbed his hand over the reading, but stopped when Hermione was staring him down.

"As would I," her dad continued. He paused for a moment, thinking. "Since we have never actually met either of your friends, how about you invite them to stay for a week, both of them." Hermione could have jumped with joy. Both her boyfriend and Harry could come to her house and actually spend a week with her family.

"Can we have Harry's birthday party here too?" Hermione really wanted to throw Harry a really nice party, one that he would never forget. "He's never had one before."

Her father raised an eyebrow at that but nodded his head. "This is, of course, with Roland's permission." Hermione looked with puppy-dog eyes at her cousin, nearly getting down on her knees.

"I have no problem with." Roland handed the letter back to Hermione "They can have the guest in room. I'll be fine on the couch down here."

"Thank you, Mum, Dad," She gave them each big hugs. Hermione stared at Roland before sticking her tongue out at him and running up stairs to reply to Ron, then send a letter to Harry. She could hear her cousin laughing as she left.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked, looking at her nephew. Roland was leaning against the wall, puzzled by something. Her husband had left to get some groceries that they would need for the week.

"That letter wasn't written by whom she thinks," he said, and waved a hand in front of him. A duplicate of the letter appeared in his other hand. "There was magic used on it, almost to hide who actually wrote it."

"You don't trust her boyfriend," she asked. He shook his head. "I thought it was just a mother's instinct."

"For you it probably it," Roland replied, "For me…" he shrugged. "I'm just paranoid. That's all." He stood up straight. "It comes with the territory." The letter disappeared as he released it. He paused again, and looked at his aunt. "Are you sure about your decision with me becoming Hermione's guardian if…" Roland trailed off, as if he didn't want to finish the sentence.

"Yes," Mary said, "you can protect and will, and you can teach her if need be. Besides you're family." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You are a good kid, a bit mixed up, but a good kid."

"I'm twenty," he said, "I doubt that I count as a kid."

"Aw," Mary said, squeezing his cheek, "isn't the kid cute?"

"Keep this up and I'll be gone for the day," Roland threatened. He backed off. "And Hermione will probably want me to explain what her element is and why she was chosen that way." He shrugged his shoulders and took off upstairs, taking them two at a time. Mary shook her head. She only hoped that she was making the right decision with her daughter.

()()()()()()

Hermione quickly wrote a short note to Ron, explaining to him that her parents were inviting him and Harry over for next week or so. Her letter to Harry was much longer, explaining to him that she was sorry that Ron didn't tell him about them going out, and she talked about her cousin and something of the things that had happened since he had arrived. Hermione left out the little part about the man who threatened her; knowing Harry as well as she did, he would only get upset. No, it was better for him not to know about her cousin. The radio was blaring as she wrote. _"Another brutal attack by the Brotherhood of Mutants in America. Luckily no humans were hurt in his attack, but reports indicate that one of the mutants who were the cause of the attack was hurt, but no word whether or not it is dead._"

"It better be," Hermione said as she searched her room for string to tie up the letters. The news continued.

_"We are informed that the so called group of super heroes, the X-men, were also at this attack. Authorities are unsure whether or not these mutants were helping in the destruction or stopping it." _ Hermione turned off the radio;she didn't want to hear anymore about the mutants. It was a depressing matter; the mutants attacking perfectly normal people who didn't do anything wrong. When she turned to get Pig on the perch that she had bought for both Harry's and Ron's owl, Hermione saw Roland shaking his head.

"I hope everyone is alright," Roland said.

"Me too," Hermione added, and walked over to Pig.

"I wonder how Logan handled the situation," Roland said before turning around.

"Logan who?" she asked

"He's with the X-men," Roland replied, "They've had trouble ever since they lost one of their members."

"How do you know this?" She seemed shocked that Roland would associate with these freaks.

"It was on the news in America for a while." Roland shrugged. "I shot pool with Logan during the summer. Why are you so curious? Why does it matter?"

Hermione's face turned red from anger. "I'm surprised that you would be friends with those… those…"

"I believe people is the word you are looking for," Roland's anger was beginning to show, but Hermione doubted he had anything on her.

"The word _I_ was looking for was monsters." She was glaring at her cousin, appalled at his behavior. How could he do that? Those creatures deserved to be monitored and locked away fro the rest of their lives. "They don't deserve the lives that we give them."

"The lives we give them?" Roland repeated in disgust. "Do you have how simple it is for you to be mistaken as a mutant?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, backing off.

"Why should I tell such a close minded person any thing?" Roland replied. "You should figure it out if you're so smart." He stormed away. Just before he left, Hermione swore that she could have felt his anger and seen it. Roland almost glowed a blood red color, but she thought that she was mistaken. Yes, she was certainly was. It would take a huge amount of power for it to be visible like that and Roland wasn't that powerful. Dumbledore wasn't even that powerful.

Hermione shrugged, she didn't really care what Roland said. She would figure it out in time, but that wasn't important right now. Her cousin was just being stubborn and pig-headed; refusing to see that truth, that's all. No, now was the time to send off Harry and Ron's letters. She walked over to Pig, but the little owl flew up, ready to play a game. "Not now, Pig," Hermione said, but the owl didn't listen. Instead it flew around the room, dodging Hermione's attempts to catch him. She heard the shower start and sighed. Hermione was hoping to get in before Roland, he took longer showers then she did. That would mean there would be no hot water for her. She almost growled in frustration. He was just doing that to get her angry. _Well, he won't get the best of me._ She was determined to be the bigger person and not let Roland's childish acts get to her.

Hermione finally caught Pig and tied the letters on to its legs. "Take this one to Harry first, all right." Pig nodded yes and then flew out of the window. _Hopefully that dumb bird will listen to me. _Hermione looked over at her desk and saw the paper that Roland was writing on the day before. She didn't recognize any of the symbols, but saw, in plain English, the Air written in the center. _Makes sense,_ she thought. She was after extremely smart and knew a lot—that alone gave her enough warrant to be an Air element. Then why did Roland need to go through the entire test, especially the last question?

She shivered at that thought. Hermione still had no idea as to why she chose Harry over Ron and she doubted she ever would. Harry was a strong wizard, but Ron could be, too. What made it so bad was the fact that she had to make the choice, where their lives were almost in the palm of her hands. Roland seemed pretty distraught by his answer, but his comment afterwards worried her. "I don't deserve to live." That reminded her of Harry, almost, but with Roland it seemed that he truly thought that he was unworthy of life. Harry at least knew that he was needed, but Roland didn't even have a point to live anymore in his opinion. _That is what depression is_, Hermione thought, _the total lack of self worth and the wanting to kill one's self._ She knew that Harry was depressed to a degree, but from her cousin's manner, maybe he was, too. Maybe he was more forgone then Harry. At times, he was so down and disheartened that it affected her, but others, he was the happiest person in the world. _I wonder if he is bipolar too._

Hermione decided that she needed to talk with her mother; she might be able to help. Mrs. Granger seemed to talk with him just about every day, so she had to know something. The shower was still going, so Hermione thought that it was best if she went down and talked to her then. She tightened her robe around her waist and walked out of her room and down the stairs. Her mother was sitting at the table, looking at their old photo albums. "Roland gave me all of her mother's old pictures, including the ones of the family reunion," her mother said. Hermione watched as a tear rolled down she cheeks. "So much has happened." She looked up at her daughter. "Come sit down, I want to tell you something." Hermione went over to her mother.

"Remember nine years ago when we first got news of your aunt's death?" Hermione nodded and tried to hold back the tears. It was hard for her think about her. Aunt Jane was one of her favorites, even thought Hermione barely know her. She had tried her so nicely the few days that Hermione saw her. Aunt Jane reminded her of Roland at times. "Well, obviously, Roland survived, but not without some injuries."

"Like what, Mum?" Hermione asked.

"He died at the hospital when they finished operating on him." Her mother paused. Hermione was shocked; she never even heard this story before. She just waited for her mother to continue. "Roland laid on the table, legally dead for ten minutes before he came back." Hermione gasped. "With that much time, the brain takes serious damage. He has a long list of mental problems, including bipolar and depression. But I think you figured this all out." Hermione nodded yes again. She was shocked at that. It explained why at times he acted like a child. "There's more, but I'm not sure if I can talk about it." The tears came back. "I just miss my sister so much." Hermione sat there and watched as her mother cried, doubting that she could do anything to help. She wanted to, but had no idea of what to do.

Hermione didn't even hear Roland come downstairs. "And she misses you, too, Aunt Mary," Roland said. Hermione jumped when he spoke. "But you must remember, that times moves on, people move on. You can't hid in the past or the future will fail miserable. Mom would want you to be happy like you were, not sad and down." He paused and took a death. "You mustn't think of death as an end, but rather a beginning. Mom went to a better place, a place where she is with Dad and she is happy and loved."

"Sounds cliché," Hermione said sarcastically.

"So what if it is?" Roland replied. He was calm again. "Isn't that what you want when you die, to be happy? Heaven is comfort and helps you find peace before you move on." Hermione was about to ask what he meant by that, but held back. It was probably in those books of his that he gave her. "Life is precious and so is death, Hermione. You can't view on being sad, for they are a beautiful thing. The manner in which a person dies in can be sad, but the passing is wonderful. That is why most wizards and witches call a funeral a Celebration, for you are there to celebrate the life and happiness of their lives."

"I never knew that," Hermione said, disappointed that she didn't know something.

"When you deal with death often, Herms, you learn all that you can about the ceremonies." He was back to his old self. "But on the other hand, you must also know of life." He motioned for her to go upstairs. "Take your shower, Herms, so we can discuss your element and possibly training." She jumped up from the table in excitement.

Before Hermione left, she gave her mother a hug, and whispered an "I love you." She rushed up stairs to her room, grabbing her cloths and then to the bathroom. Hermione was really looking forward to this day. Things were finally looking up.

()()()()()()

Things couldn't be looking any worse for Harry. With the recent attack on humans by mutants, Uncle Vernon was on the warpath. Harry made it a point to stay out of his way during the day and locked himself in his room. He had been working on the transfiguration essay for the past hours, just writing whatever he could think of before Pig came to his window. He hoped that it was a letter from Ron, finally asking him to come for the summer. It had become tradition, sort of, for Harry to live the burrow around his birthday to go to the Burrow. But this year, Ron wasn't talking with him despite the number of letters Harry had sent.

The letter had come from Hermione. Harry recognized the handwriting the moment he saw it, so elegant and pretty. He had missed her so much that he nearly tore apart the letter trying to open it.

_Dear Harry, _

_I first off want to thank you for calling me that one day, and would like to let you know that you can call me whenever you want; whether about something important or nothing at all. I miss hearing your voice. You really kept me going last year, it was so hard but with your encouragement I know I did well. _

_Secondly, I want to tell you that I am fine and fully healed. So no more worrying about me, okay. You just take care of yourself_. (Harry laughed, that was so like Hermione, always caring about him.) _But your concern did touch me and thank you very much, Harry. It meant a lot to me just to know that you care. I don't how much I can thank you, but I do know that I will continue to. You've been so kind to me, and stayed my friend even when I was the one spoiling your fun. Well again, thank you Harry for being my friend. Thank you for being you._

_Now for the real reason about me writing; I want to invite you over to my house for about a week. I know that it is close to your birthday, but that is something I want to do to, throw you a birthday party. It would only be you, me, Ron, Roland and my parents, but that is enough people. I think that it would be a wonderful experience for you, Harry. I know how horrible the Dursleys have and probably are treating you, and I really want this. Please say yes. I want to see you again. I miss you._

_Love always, _

_Hermione Granger_

The shock wore off Harry as he reread the letter. Hermione had missed him, actually missed him. He didn't think that she would care, what with her and Ron. They seemed so perfect for each other, Harry thought. _Why would they want to spend time with a person like me? _He wasn't much, just someone who was going to be used to destroy the dark lord, and then kicked aside like a mutt on the street. But Ron, Ron would have a life after Hogwarts, Hermione had future with him. Harry was just to die anyways while he killed Voldemort. That was what he decided, as not to be a burden to anyone after the final battle. It was just easier that way.

This was part of the reason why Harry planned to distance himself away from his friends this year and his last at Hogwarts. It would be easier to deal with loss when they weren't too close to him. Harry didn't want to see any of his friends hurt anymore, especially when it was his fault. Loss is always easier to handle without them being close. The closer a person was, the harder the loss. Sirius and Cedric were a prime example; Cedric was a friend but Harry didn't know him that well. Sirius was like the father that Harry never had, and he loved him. Sirius's death was hard for Harry and still was. It was something that would take time and he wasn't sure if he could handle it.

If Ron or Hermione, especially Hermione, were killed because of him, Harry wasn't sure of his actions. When he saw his friends fall that night at the Ministry, he anger soared as high as an eagle flies. If Hermione died… a tear fell down his cheek. He didn't want to think about that, it was too hard on him. That was the reason why he had to leave, to keep her safe. His friends would understand. Their safety takes precedent over his life. His life meant nothing to the world. All he was had done meant nothing to them. He was just a superstar who they could blame anything that went wrong on. The moment he was gone it will all be better.

That brought Harry back to the letter. As much as he didn't want to be around them anymore, he did. He wanted to see her smile, hear her laugh, and be just in her presence. Hermione did always lighten his heavy load with but a smile and she could clear his darkest day with but a word. She was a great friend. Harry sighed again. _When would I ever find love?_ He doubted that he ever would, and he would have to live with that. But at least he could see her one last time before pushing himself away. Harry looked up to notice that Pig was already gone. He had seen another letter on him, and figured that it was for Ron. He sighed again. _Well, I better send back a reply. _Harry just wished he knew what he was going to say

"Just say yes," a man's voice echoed the room. Immediately Harry had his wand up. "Oh, for the gods' sake, put that down, boy." A bright flash of white light appeared. Harry was standing on his bed, wand pointed at the white light. "I have no reason to hurt you."

"Who are you?" Harry asked, he didn't lower the wand. The man wore a long white robe, flowing onto the flow. Harry could have sworn the man was albino, for he had almost red eyes and pale white hair.

"You can call me Eonos," the man said, "and I've been sent here by your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." He removed a bag from his book. "He wanted me to give you this." Tossing it onto the bed didn't get Harry to move. He was too cautious for that. Instead he just stood there, watching the man. "Really, that won't have any affect on me, especially here." He paused and smirked, showing his teeth. Harry backed up a bit the best he could. Eonos had sharpened teeth, almost like for tearing meat off of a bone. "Especially without her."

"Who are you talking about?" Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He lowered his wand and stared at the man.

"Read the books in the bag," Eonos said as he turned around. "You just might get a glance of what I mean." In the same flash that he arrived in, Eonos was gone. Harry had no idea why he was here, or even how he found him, but he knew that there was something strange about this Eonos character. Harry just knew it. He felt it within his body. It was as if the man was pure evil or something. Harry shrugged and stepped down off his bed. There was nothing he could do, but he was careful as he walked over to the bag.

As much as his curiosity told him to open it, Harry refused. He had other business to do, which was to write a reply to Hermione's letter. He pulled out a sheet from his trunk and sat down at his desk, and quickly scribbled a reply; one without any thoughts on how he felt or any response to anything in her letter, but a reply nonetheless. Harry hoped that Hermione would accept his letter without any questions. He just knew that when he goes over, she would interrogate him. And that was the last thing that Harry wanted. But what else could he do, Hermione wanted him to come, other wise she won't have sent the letter.

Harry looked at the letter on finally time before signally for Hedwig to come over to him. He just wanted to be alone at the moment and try not to thing about the word "love." He sent his owl out to Hermione and sat down on his bed. A small tear rolled down his face as his owl flew out of the window. _Will I ever find love? _


End file.
